I Shall Not Want
by redqueen76
Summary: Sequel to What He Wants. In the wake of the disasters that have befallen Konoha, Kakashi and Iruka struggle to adjust to the changes being imposed on their lives. KakaIru.
1. The Mask Of Dagon

**A/N: **Here is Part the First of I Shall Not Want, which is the sequel to What He Wants (on my profile page). Sorry to say that if you haven't read What He Wants, this story probably won't make a lot of sense. (So go read it!) Also, I Shall Not Want is not a happy story. It will hopefully provide satisfaction at the end (which is a LONG way off), but to get there will be something of a trial by fire, at least for me, and probably for anyone reading it as well. If that sounds good to you, let's go!

I really appreciated your commentary all through WHW, and I hope you'll continue to be vocal (so to speak) throughout ISNW. This sequel is not coming nearly as easily as its predecessor, and I've considered just ditching the project more than once, so encouragement and honest critique would be more than welcome. I also promise to be more active in responding to comments, since I am actually posting this here as it's written, not after it's all been finished and posted elsewhere. *hangs head*

Dedicated to my lovely, merciless betas, b**ronze_tigress, stinky_horowitz **and **venusian_eye. **Also dedicated to **skatervalentine**, since she made the comment that sparked this whole thing to life in my brain.

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**I Shall Not Want**

**Part 1: The Mask of Dagon**

"What the hell does Iruka-sensei see in you, anyway?" Naruto grumbles at Kakashi as he beats a bowlful of eggs into froth.

"He sees his giant dick in him, obviously," Sai replies without any hesitation from where he's sitting at the kitchen table, not even glancing up from his borrowed copy of Icha Icha Tactics. He delicately turns a page.

"Among other things, depending on how kinky he's feeling," Kakashi adds absently, sitting adjacent to Sai, comfortably slouched with his nose stuck in the posthumously published Icha Icha Nuisance. "He's particularly fond of kitchen implements." He flicks a pointed glance at the whisk Naruto is holding.

It is a conversation they've had many times over the past few years, with many modifications designed to cause various degrees of discomfort and disdain in the Jinchuuriki. Naruto has become immune to most of their verbal torment, though, Kakashi reflects sadly, as all they receive for their efforts is a snort of exasperation and a half-hearted "Gross, Kakashi."

"It was so cute when he used to scream and throw things at us, wasn't it?" Sai muses, eyes never leaving the page he's on. Evidently great minds aren't the only kind that think alike. "It's like he's lost all his passion."

Kakashi nods and sighs heavily. "I'll have to tell Guy that Naruto's become devoid of his youthful lust for life. He'll be devastated."

Now Naruto looks disturbed, freezing in the act of grating cheese. "Eh?"

"But don't worry!" Kakashi continues, eye crinkling. "He won't leave you alone, day or night, until he helps you regain all your vernal zeal!"

"Lee would be pleased to assist him with that, I'm sure," Sai adds, smiling beneficently.

"No, wait! I _have_ zeal!" Naruto screams, panicked, dropping the cheese and flailing a little for emphasis. "I have tons of zeal! Just because I choose not to waste it on a couple of perverts who—" Naruto cuts himself off as he notices the pleased smugness in Kakashi's eye.

"Nice, Kakashi," Sai says, chucking the older jounin on the shoulder. Kakashi wonders what book that gesture came from. Sai must have practiced it on mannequins or something; it almost seems natural.

Kakashi smirks, turning back to his book. "Still got it."

"Fuck both of you sideways," Naruto mutters, pouring his egg mixture into a pan. "Here I am making breakfast for you, and all you can do is try to humiliate me."

"It's only because we love you so much, you know," says Kakashi.

Naruto whirls on him, pointing with the dripping whisk. "Stop saying creepy things, damn it!"

"Iruka will spank you with that if you keep dribbling eggs on the floor."

"I said _stop!_"

The conversation—such as it is—would probably have continued in that vein, but they are interrupted by the arrival of Iruka, who'd had an early meeting with the Hokage that morning. As always, even though they've been together for more than three years now, Kakashi feels a subtle weight lift when Iruka walks into the room. Even if he's only been gone for a few minutes, the difference Iruka's presence makes even in the air Kakashi breathes is almost tangible.

Kakashi stands up to peck Iruka on the cheek, mask already down around his throat—he stopped trying to hide his face from his former students as soon as they honestly stopped caring about seeing it—but he pauses short of his goal when he notices the look on Iruka's face. "What's wrong?"

Naruto looks up from where he's sliding the first omelet onto a plate, concerned. Sai lowers his book, raising a brow.

Iruka chuckles a little as he shakes his head. There's no humor in it. He has a white-knuckled grip on the strap of the knapsack he's carrying. Kakashi can't remember ever seeing that bag before.

"Baby?" Kakashi can't help slipping into endearments when he's anxious, at least for Iruka and the pack. It used to annoy Iruka, but now he ignores it. Kakashi's grateful, because he would rather not focus on censoring himself when he's worried.

Iruka sits down heavily at the kitchen table next to Sai, putting the bag in front of him. "Tsunade-san…she finally did it," he mutters, rubbing his hands over his face, scrubbing at his eyes a little. "I'm a tokubetsu jounin now. Incendiary specialist."

Kakashi's chest clenches. Naruto turns off the stove and leans against it, arms crossed, head hanging. Even Sai puts his book down and tries to manufacture an appropriately sympathetic look. He's better at social graces than he was a few years ago, but every now and then it's like the computer of his brain has trouble finding the appropriate response in its databanks, and the blank confusion is visible on his face. It's one of the things Kakashi has come to like about Sai, that feeling that the man is an anthropologist from a distant planet, come to Earth to study alien customs which are often baffling. Kakashi feels like that himself, quite often.

Kakashi sits down beside his partner and puts a hand on his wrist. "How long can you stay at the Academy?" he asks.

"My replacement starts tomorrow," Iruka says, baring his teeth.

"Just like that?" Naruto says. His voice is low, outraged.

"Tsunade-san held off as long as she could—"

"Don't defend that old hag! She knows what it means to you to be able to stay on at the Academy!" Naruto cuts in, clenching his fists and looking like he wants to march up to the Tower and punch Tsunade's face in. Kakashi can relate, but it's just not a good idea for so many reasons.

"Naruto," Iruka warns, "if I can accept this, you can accept it."

"Can you accept it, Iruka-san?" Sai asks quietly. It's just what Kakashi was thinking, but he wouldn't have asked in front of the others. He wonders if Iruka will answer Sai honestly.

Another humorless chuckle—Kakashi really hates the sound of those—and another grimace. "Eventually, Sai. I knew this was coming. Tsunade-san has to appoint whoever she can to the highest positions available, even if they aren't the best people for the job. She warned me that I would have to be considered."

"But how can she just take away something you loved, just like that?!" Naruto hollers. "I mean, you always wanted to stay at the Academy more than anything! She knows what teaching means to you—"

"We all know," Kakashi growls, seeing the grief behind Iruka's stoicism threatening to emerge as Naruto goes on, "so you can stop rubbing it in, Naruto. It's done."

Naruto looks like Kakashi just slapped him across the face, then turns and noisily resumes making breakfast, slamming everything around more than strictly necessary. Kakashi really appreciates it when the kid understands he needs to shut up about something. It doesn't happen often.

Which isn't to say that Kakashi isn't just as outraged about the Hokage's decision to promote Iruka away from a position he practically lived for. He's just a lot better at compartmentalizing. And he also knows Tsunade didn't want to do it, beat herself up about Iruka in particular, though he's not the only one she's had to screw over in the restructuring of Konoha's upper levels. Between Pain coming to town—devastating their already depleted ranks—and Danzou's nearly-successful revolution, the survivors have had hell to pay, just for Konoha to be able to hang on to its status as a ninja power by the skin of its teeth.

"What's in the bag?" Kakashi asks, to change the subject, and to watch Iruka's reaction.

Apparently he picked the wrong topic, because Iruka tenses and grits his teeth noticeably. "I'll tell you later," he says, and effects his own change of subject. "How's the new series coming, Sai?"

"The roofscapes? I'm rather pleased with them, Iruka-san, although the egg tempera is much harder to mix than ink. And it dries and hardens so quickly that..."

Kakashi, who—barring anything Icha Icha—is something of a Philistine, tunes out their conversation. He contemplates his partner's almost invisibly distraught countenance while he waits for Naruto to finish their breakfast.

Kakashi had decided, a year or so ago, that bringing Naruto vegetables that he was most likely not even eating was just not enough, so he taught the kid to cook real food in an attempt to get him more interested in balancing his diet himself. Sai being such a curious alien anthropologist, and also almost pathologically intrigued by his teammates and anything they learned, insisted that Kakashi teach him as well. Somehow that ended up with the four of them—Kakashi, Iruka, Sai and Naruto—taking turns cooking breakfast for each other every weekday. Occasionally they dine at Naruto's or Sai's, but since Kakashi and Iruka's apartment has the best kitchen—six-burner gas stove with grill, giant 3-door fridge, a small steam table, an oven big enough to roast a boar and all the heavy crockery, copper and stainless steel pots, pans and utensils any professional chef could wish for—four days out of five that's where they eat.

Kakashi's étudiant de cuisine is currently slamming omelets down on the table, not being at all careful that the food stays entirely on the plates. Iruka doesn't even yell at him for getting grease on the tablecloth. Kakashi wants to kick the boys out so they can have some privacy, but Iruka won't like that, and Kakashi is even more keen than usual to refrain from doing anything Iruka won't like.

Conversation throughout the meal is subdued, Naruto's usual ebullience only marginally represented in the way he attacks his food, like he's in a concentration camp and the only way to keep his meal from being stolen from him is to hide it in his stomach. Having survived eight months in one of Water's camps, back in the day, Kakashi is familiar with that kind of hunted hunger. It comes from the Bijuu, not Naruto, he is certain. When the gusto and the love are absent from the act of eating, as they are today, Kakashi finds that even more obvious.

Kakashi can joke about Naruto's 'vernal zeal' all he likes, but that protects the Jinchuuriki within and without, better than any armor or jutsu. When there's a pall on Naruto, the world is dimmer than a solar eclipse.

But a pall on Iruka...Kakashi can't abide that. Not for a minute, not for a second. Not that he can do anything to alleviate it, besides irritate him. And not even that, today, he finds, as Iruka is completely oblivious to all his usual petty irksomeness. Talking with his mouth full, poking the disturbingly listless Naruto with his chopsticks, reciting filthy passages from Icha Icha with Sai, even stealing one of Iruka's chopsticks and cleaning his ear with the unused end before putting it back in front of him garner nothing more than a faint flash of annoyance. And a rather severe punch in the arm from Naruto that he doesn't bother to dodge, figuring the kid needs to release a little aggression. It's obvious he's planning to have words with Tsunade later, so it's better he gets it out of his system now. Not that any amount of tension release is going to stop him from letting her have it; that's just his way.

Finally breakfast is over, and Sai bows and takes his leave, pale, polite and distant, though his smile is somehow still warm. Kakashi wraps an arm around Naruto's shoulders as he walks him to the door, while Iruka swiftly cleans the dishes. Iruka has dishwashing down to either an art or a science; it never takes him more than seven minutes no matter how many dishes there are or how much burnt-on food seems to be bonding molecularly with the surfaces. Kakashi calls him the 'dishwash-nin' when he feels like being roughed up a little.

"You'll take care of Iruka-sensei, right?" Naruto asks worriedly.

Kakashi is a little insulted that Naruto would have any doubts about that. "He can take care of himself," he says, just to be spiteful, though it is true.

Naruto narrows his bright eyes. "Every ninja can take care of himself," he retorts, "even if they need someone else and don't have anyone. Iruka-sensei has you, so you better look after him, is all I'm saying."

Kakashi relents, squeezing his arm tight around the blond's shoulders. "You don't even need to ask, you know. If he's unhappy, I'm unhappy. That's how it works. I'll do my best to make this easier for him, but..." His eye darkens. "These next few weeks are going to be really hard, Naruto. He'll need you too, you know."

"Of course I know that! I'll be here, it's just I'm not...you know. Sleeping with him and stuff." His cheeks pinken a little, and his expression makes Kakashi think of someone trying not to picture their parents screwing.

"You'd better not be," Kakashi mock-growls.

"So use your special couple-ways to cheer him up a lot," Naruto continues.

"'Special couple-ways'?"

"I don't know. Let him use the whisk on you or something."

Kakashi is surprised into laughing aloud. Naruto rarely says anything perverted about guys, but when he does it never fails to thoroughly amuse Kakashi. "Oh, _those_ ways. You're right; he's really never happier than after I get that giant black vibrator an—mph." Naruto claps a hand tightly over his mouth, screwing his eyes shut.

"Please shut up, Kakashi," he whines.

Kakashi licks his hand, and Naruto wipes it on Kakashi's cheek, shoving harder than necessary. Kakashi's arm is still around his shoulders, and he shrugs it off lightly, turning to leave. He pauses in the doorway, looking back over his shoulder, hesitant.

"Nn?" Kakashi inquires.

"Kakashi-sensei..."

It's been a long time since Naruto's addressed him that way. Iruka has always remained '-sensei', but dropping Kakashi's title was like a rite of passage for Naruto, a sort of coming of age. Kakashi never begrudged him that, and Naruto's a jounin now anyway. Hell, Naruto surpassed him when the kid was still a genin. Even so, he can't deny a bit of nostalgia at the suffix. "Yes, Naruto-kun?" he teases.

Naruto ignores him. "If you were in Iruka-sensei's place...I'd be saying these same things to him, you know."

Kakashi is taken aback, unwillingly touched. For Naruto to want Kakashi to be taken care of seems completely bizarre. "You'd be telling him to screw me into blissful oblivion, too? I'm moved," he says, to hide that he really is.

Instead of getting irritated and hammering his point into unmistakable obviousness, as though Kakashi is too thick to read what passes for subtlety in the blond, thus negating all deeper meaning, Naruto lowers his eyes, and then reaches out and squeezes Kakashi's bicep gently. "See you tomorrow morning," is all he says, and calls out a farewell to Iruka before turning to the door again.

Kakashi is thoroughly disturbed by this display of affection. Naruto just gets better and better at reading him, and he doesn't like it. Only Iruka should know him so well. Maybe he should have kept his face hidden after all.

He remembers something just as the door is closing behind the blond, and he pushes the door open. "Naruto!"

The kid looks back, eyebrows raised.

"Um...given the situation, I really think you should stop calling Iruka 'Sensei'," he says. "I think it will just make it more difficult for him."

Naruto turns and crosses his arms. "But...won't it make it even worse if I start acting differently? He's been 'Iruka-sensei' ever since I met him. I mean, it might hurt worse if I drop the honorific."

"I know. I've always called him 'Sensei', too. It might be a habit that won't break, but I think we should try, for his sake. I'd rather we tried on our own before he asks us to stop because he doesn't think he 'deserves' to be called 'Sensei' anymore, or something—you know how he gets."

Naruto winces. "Yeah, I see what you mean. I'll do my best."

"Thanks."

Finally the door is shut, and Kakashi is alone in the house with Iruka. He knows there is something else Iruka needs to tell him, something he didn't want to or couldn't say in front of Sai and Naruto. It is hard to tell how bad the news will be, considering how bad the news he's already revealed is.

Iruka joins him in the living room, his hands still red and moist-looking from the dish water. Knowing that his partner will have to leave for his last day at the Academy soon, Kakashi doesn't beat around the bush. "What else do you have to tell me?"

Iruka isn't surprised, as Kakashi wouldn't have been either. Sometimes it seems they are close enough to control each other's thoughts. The proximity is not always desirable, but it cuts through a lot of bullshit.

His partner is obviously gathering his thoughts, trying to figure out how to begin, and Kakashi notes his eyes flicking to the kitchen. The mystery bag is still on the table in there, he recalls.

"Does it have something to do with that bag you brought home?" he asks.

Iruka nods, sorrow in every line of his face and body. "Yeah."

Ah, the familiar oily glove of dread. Time for the first line of defense. "What, do you have your collection of shrunken heads in there? Because I've always known you had to have one somewhere. You're too level-headed for an old ninja."

Iruka doesn't even smile, which would make Kakashi frown if he were more prone to advertising that kind of concern on his face. He knows Iruka can see the frown there even if its shape isn't on his lips, anyway.

"Iruka?"

His partner sighs, looking like he would rather be eating rotten snails than having this conversation. Kakashi's tempted to just open the bag and save Iruka the anguish, but that seems too much like something a pushy housewife would do.

Finally Iruka speaks, crossing his arms and looking at the floor, tension hunching his shoulders. "You know that mission to Sand you're going on in two weeks?" he says, his voice casual even if his words are not.

Icy needles painfully freeze Kakashi's blood. "You can't know about that," he says flatly, as the dread-glove seizes his guts. "Not unless..."

He storms to the kitchen table, quick as mercury, wrenches open the bag and lifts out the ugly white mask that he knew would have to be there, but would have given several vital organs not to have found.

"I've been assigned to your team," Iruka says quietly.

Kakashi remains staring at the mask, not speaking. The part of his mind that isn't occupied with preventing an explosion is trying to figure out what animal the mask is supposed to represent. Its painted eyes are buggy and widely spaced, and there are a series of stylized grooves where the mouth should be. It's definitely not a dolphin, at least.

"My ANBU name is Dagon," Iruka adds, with the telepathy of intimacy.

'Dagon'. Kakashi searches his memory and comes up with both an ancient half-fish god, and a legendary sentient deep-sea anthropoid. ANBU names just keep getting weirder and weirder, lately. "So they kept to the whole 'sea creature' theme. Nice of them to make you feel right at home like that."

"Kakashi--"

"This is not going to happen, Iruka. This is not happening. I'd rather kill you than have you as an ANBU under my command." Kakashi's bones turn watery with a wretched self-hatred and a loathing for his Hokage that makes his stomach lurch.

Iruka grits his teeth and casts a despairing glance at the clock on the wall across the room. "I hate to say this right now, but I have to leave. I'm going to be late for my last day. We can talk about killing me when I get home later, okay?"

Kakashi's hand clenches hard around the mask. "Right." Swallowing all his disagreeable emotions, he stalks lightly to his partner and embraces him loosely with one arm—unconsciously holding the mask as far away from Iruka's body as he can—and kisses him gently. His throat is full of unkindness that wants to be unleashed and vented on whomever it can reach, but instead the words "Have a good day" somehow eke from his throat. Astonishingly, though the sentiment as he's used to it is generally meaningless, it sounds sincere.

"I'll try," Iruka answers on a shaky exhalation.

"Do you want me to bring you lunch?"

"No, I'll get something in the refectory with...with the kids."

Kakashi is unequivocally aware that Iruka is not going to have a good day. It's possible that his partner will not have another good day for the rest of his life, which will undoubtedly not be a very long time, considering. Kakashi's hand clenches the porcelain face hard enough that he's probably giving himself bruises.

He conjures up a smile from somewhere that neither of them believes is anything more than a snarl in a lip tuxedo, but Iruka accepts it anyway, probably only because he doesn't want to be late. He doesn't bother trying to respond, just grabs his things and heads outside.

The thunk of the shutting door is like a coffin lid closing.

Turning back to the kitchen table, Kakashi catches his reflection in the mirror beside the entrance to the hallway. He passes it all the time without giving it a second thought, but now it snares all his attention. He never realized that the slightly smoked glass housed such a hideous, sinister creature. Long, spider-jointed limbs; a thin, cruel, acidic mouth; bristling, demented chevelure of ancient grey; one eye a dark and soulless silver and the other a bright demon-eagle red, visage hard and indifferent to suffering, whether experienced or brought on by itself or others. This horrific creature in the mirror...something like this is what Iruka will become. It is inevitable. Kakashi isn't self-ignorant enough to think ANBU alone will do the job, though, oh no. Kakashi has already forced his corrupted soul on Iruka. No matter how even-tempered and kind Iruka remains, the transformation is already partially complete. Perhaps that is a blessing in disguise; the metamorphosis will be easier.

Kakashi swings his arm in a hard arc, wrenching his fist open to allow the mask to spin free. It smashes hard into the dim mirror, which shatters apart with a thundering crack, but does not explode into a powdery miasma as he'd hoped. Presumably that would have taken more chakra.

The shards of silvery glass rain down lightly on the completely unbroken, unblemished face of the mask of Dagon. Kakashi crosses the room and kneels down in front of it, heedless of the glass biting into his shins and knees, and contemplates his partner's new alter-ego for a long time.


	2. Goodbye November, Hello Trouble

**A/N: **So, here is Part 2. I have very mixed feelings about it; it's probably not as heavily rewritten and edited as it should be. But, I'm at a point where I just can't mess with it anymore, so I'm posting it as is. It's a much lighter chapter than the first, for the most part, I think. And it has Chouji and Shikamaru in it. Woo!

Doughnuts and domino dancing to my beloved betas,** bronze_tigress, stinky_horowitz and venusian_eye.**

**Part 2: Goodbye November, Hello Trouble**

A few minutes after the bell for class has rung, the students are settled, and roll has been called, Iruka stands at the front of the room and claps his hands for attention. About half the class looks up at him. "I have an important announcement," he says, and since he usually doesn't make declarations like that, a few more faces look over at him. "As of tomorrow, I will no longer be your instructor." He takes a breath, but realizes he doesn't really have anything to follow that up with. He hasn't been told who his replacement will be, or whether the new instructor will be following his curriculum or not. Come to think of it, it might have been a better idea to have treated this as a normal day, and waited until class was almost out before informing his students of the change. Now he's not sure what to do, and the kids aren't going to see the point of having class with him if he's just going to be leaving. He's not sure he sees the point himself. He just wanted to have this last day with them, but that seems selfish, now. Perhaps he should send them home.

"What do you mean, Iruka-sensei?" asks a little doe-eyed Inuzuka girl named Shippo.

Iruka notes that he has everyone's full attention now. "Ah, well, I've...been promoted." He smiles, leaning carefully on his podium, and resists the temptation to hide his fidgety hands in his pockets. "So someone else will be taking over my class for me."

A few short years ago, such a pronouncement would have garnered admiration, even awe, would have perhaps been inspirational to some of the more ambitious children. But these days, even to these young ones, a promotion means that there's not enough meat at the top of the grinder, and someone has to fill in. It's very similar to war-time. Konoha has thus far avoided outright war—mostly due to their allies in Wind country—but the mercenary machine is always running, and ninja are always dying, even though they can't be spared. If things keep going the way they are, the Academy will begin graduating genin prematurely, just to keep the ranks filled. That will be disastrous, and Iruka is prepared to fight that tooth and nail, whether he's got a post in the Academy or not.

These kids aren't ignorant of Konoha's situation, mostly because Iruka's kept them as informed as possible, so they know that in many instances a promotion isn't really something to celebrate. They mostly look surprised, confused, or angry, even sad. Some of them begin muttering to each other, and he waits for questions to start.

"Who will teach us?" one student inquires, after several seconds.

"I haven't been told," Iruka admits. "I was only promoted this morning, so I don't have much information."

"You're a jounin now, Iruka-sensei?" another asks.

"Tokubetsu jounin," he corrects.

"Are you in ANBU, Sensei?" Shippo again.

He narrows his eyes at her. "Shippo-chan, you know better than to ask about that," he says with quiet severity. She looks away, troubled.

"Are you happy about this promotion, Sensei?" asks the youngest member of the class, a tiny blond boy named Oni November. He's seven, and a true prodigy in every way. He reminds Iruka a lot of Kakashi, and Iruka often wonders if his partner was like November when he was that young. Of course, Kakashi had already been a chuunin for a year by age seven, but November probably would have been as well if his parents had not insisted he remain in the Academy. Iruka's not certain what their reasons were for keeping their son from earlier graduation, but he imagines they're not much different from most parents. This year November will have to be graduated; he already has enough knowledge and skill to rival any chuunin, so there's no justification for his being in school besides his youth. And youth won't save anyone, soon, if things progress the way Iruka fears they will.

Iruka shifts, resting his forearms on the podium, as he considers how to answer November's question. "I am happy that I am useful to my Hokage, and that she believes my abilities are befitting of a higher rank," he says after a moment.

November raises a brow. "How diplomatic," he says dryly. His mimicry of adulthood would be seamless if not for the high timbre of his boyish voice.

Iruka can hear the unspoken "Bullshit" underneath, even if the boy's not thinking it in that particular terminology, and his eyes crinkle with mirth. "Never underestimate diplomacy," he responds, stepping out from behind the podium and crossing his arms. "It can save you a world of grief, you know."

"Never underestimate the truth, Iruka-sensei," November retorts.

"Sometimes the truth is none of your business." Iruka says it more sharply than he intends to, causing some of the other students to look very uncomfortable.

November stands up and bows. "Pardon me, Sensei. I did not mean to pry, only to debate."

They have had many debates; Iruka has always encouraged that in his students, even though it pisses a lot of people off—jounin sensei, most particularly, since they have to deal with the kids right after Iruka gets done with them. Iruka sighs. "No, it's alright, November-kun. Take your seat, please. There is really no reason for me to refuse to answer you." The little blond sits again, looking up with pale blue eyes full of icy intelligence.

Iruka indulges in a brief pause to gather his thoughts. "I am not happy to be promoted, because I enjoy teaching, and these days jounin can't be spared for the Academy. I will miss all of you very much," he says, looking around the room. He has to pause again to fight off tears. Really, he should have waited until the end of the day for this. "But I am a ninja first, before I am a teacher. I do what my Hokage needs me to do, because she is my commander, and because she is doing the best she can so that Konoha will survive these difficult times we are in. I respect and admire her very much, and I will abide by her decisions to the best of my ability."

"You seem sincere, but that still sounds like diplomacy," November comments doubtfully.

Iruka laughs a little. "Maybe, but not all diplomacy is a lie, November-kun. In fact, the best diplomacy is the truth, just perhaps not the whole truth."

A child in the back row wrinkles her nose in thoughtful confusion. "Is that like when mom said the best lies are mostly truth?"

"Yes, it's very similar."

"I don't want you to go, Iruka-sensei," says a quiet voice near the window. Hyuuga Bren, who almost never speaks, looks up at him with tear-filled eyes. "Can't you just tell the Hokage you don't want a promotion?"

Iruka's voice fails him for a moment, and he curls his hands into fists and pulls himself together. "No, Bren-chan, I can't do that. The Hokage doesn't like to make her subordinates do things they don't want to do, but when you are the Hokage sometimes you have to. If I were to refuse to do as she has ordered, it would only make things difficult for everyone, and it would not end well. It would also be very selfish of me. A ninja cannot be selfish; the needs of the village always come first, and the needs of the village are determined by the Hokage and the Elder Council. This is how it is, when you are a ninja. You can't put yourself before the village, not ever. It isn't always fair, and sometimes it's very painful, but it is the life we've chosen. The sooner you understand that, the better."

He sighs inwardly at the nodding heads—they've heard all this before, but not one of them truly comprehends it. They won't understand it until they have to make those choices over and over again: Konoha or my friends? Konoha or my lover? Konoha or my pride? Konoha or my life? Not much in the way of choices for a ninja, since the answer must always be the same, and there are times when the decision is so easy it doesn't even feel like choosing. At other times, the choice could rip them into pieces.

Civilian children stay in school until they are eighteen, and then some go on to universities of higher learning. They rarely have to make the kinds of sacrifices a ninja has to make, especially during their adolescence. Iruka has never been able to decide which system is really better. On one hand, civilians don't have to grow up so fast, civilian children don't have to be regularly forced into situations they can't possibly understand the ramifications of, don't have to walk with the shadow of death before they've really started to live, and they tend to live a lot longer. But on the other, civilians tend to be indolent, selfish and superficial, live by no particular code, and on the whole are sheep-like, going through life half-awake and unaware of the world, themselves or anyone else.

Well...perhaps that is a little unfair to Konoha's civilians, but that is definitely how it was in that lazy country in which he and Shiko so briefly took refuge from Kakashi, a few years back. A country with no ninja. A country where the only danger was internal, or manufactured in order to sway the opinion of the populace so that they'd buy a certain product or vote a certain way...it was insidious. Kunai and killing intent are so much easier to understand.

Iruka had really hated it there. Even if he had stayed with Shiko, there was no way he could have remained there much longer. Flawed as the ninja system might be, it is the system he belongs in.

Iruka pulls himself out of his musings and gazes at his unusually subdued students. He pulls on his most cheerful smile as he decides what to do with his class. "Well! Since today is my last day, we're going to forget about the test I told you about last week—don't look so relieved, Kageto-kun, because you'll still need to apply your knowledge of the readings I assigned. Shippo-chan, November-kun, Goro-kun, and...Motoko-chan, go to the supply annex and get all the practice weapons and armor, and meet us in the second field. We're going to do real battle simulations, and I want you all to show me everything you've learned."

Now his kids look excited, and the mood is much improved as he herds them out to the field and the nearby patch of forest. He breaks them into teams, already imagining how he'd arrange them if they were graduated genin. His replacement will, no doubt, have different ideas about how to split them up...but he can't let himself worry about that.

Iruka keeps the exercises from deteriorating into a game through sheer force of will, being serious and shouting when he needs to, but the simulations are still a lot of fun. He laughs, teases, cajoles, harangues and comforts in turns, until his little pre-genin forces are behaving with the discipline of soldiers while wearing the smiles of kids on summer vacation.

He's not sure what Kakashi would have to say about that—however Kakashi might compliment him at times, Iruka knows his partner still believes Iruka and the Academy in general are too soft on the students. Iruka just doesn't think it's necessary to deprive the children of their smiles while they're still in school, when life will certainly do it for them soon enough.

All too quickly he realizes that it's an hour and a half past their usual lunchtime, and he's very surprised that not one of the kids has complained, though they don't object to him ending the simulations, either. He gathers the students near the building, having them sit in a semi-circle around him. He spends another half an hour treating their wounds—all superficial, fortunately—and giving them each a verbal evaluation. By the end of it his stomach is growling so insistently it's a wonder the kids aren't teasing him about it. After mentally reviewing his finances, he decides to forgo the refectory, and announces to his students that he's taking them all to lunch. They can go home early afterward, he says.

The ensuing cheers have Suzume-sensei sticking her head out of the window of her classroom, frowning severely. Iruka waves apologetically, and she shakes her head and disappears. Iruka feels a pang as he realizes that this is the last time he'll disturb her class, and wonders if she knows it too. It's not likely she would say anything about it even if she did.

After a brief argument, the kids decide on the barbecue place that Chouji, Shikamaru and Ino frequent. Luckily for Iruka there's an 'all-you-can-eat' special going on, so it won't even cost as much as he expected.

Rather predictably, after they get settled, taking up every available table, Shikamaru and Chouji walk in. Chouji looks so devastated at the prospect of having to wait for a table that Iruka takes pity on him, and has the students at his table make room for them.

"You're such a pain, Chouji," Shikamaru says as he sits down, nodding his thanks to Iruka.

"Heheh...sorry about this, Iruka-sensei," Chouji says, looking at the same time genuinely abashed and magnificently hungry.

Iruka waves away the apology. "Just make sure to leave the kids enough to eat," he says lightly, smirking as the students sitting near Chouji eye the huge man with suspicion. For all Chouji's big, beautiful heart, he can be kind of a greedy bastard about food. He might not go so far as to take candy from a baby, but he'd sit and drool in the baby's face while it ate, until the baby decided enough was enough and handed the candy over of its own volition.

"I'll keep him under control, Sensei," Shikamaru assures him.

Iruka's not sure any force on Earth can 'control' a hungry Akimichi, but if anyone can keep Chouji in check, it's Shikamaru. With back-up from the six starving students at their table, it should be fine.

Lunch turns out to be just as enjoyable as the hours preceding it. Iruka stays mostly quiet, listening to Chouji give the students stern, passionate lectures about barbecue etiquette. When that topic wears itself out, Chouji regales them all with tales of yore, when the former Team Ten used to be treated to barbecue by the late Sarutobi Asuma, with the occasional observation or correction from Shikamaru and peanut gallery comments from the students.

As the afternoon wears on and the rapacious devouring slows to a leisurely grazing (except for Chouji, of course, who never slows down), the tales gradually shift into a bard-like epic of the Heroic Exploits of Nara Shikamaru, for whom Chouji quite obviously has an admiration bordering on hero-worship. Iruka is thoroughly amused by Shikamaru's futile efforts to play down his role in Chouji's version of events as he goes through the Ill-Fated Chuunin Exam, the Failed Retrieval of Uchiha Sasuke, the Avenging of Asuma, the Case of Jiraiya's Mysterious Final Message and many other subsequent events. Finally Shikamaru gives up and lets Chouji run on as he will, his arms crossed and a look on his face that wants to be a frown, but is equal parts annoyance, embarrassment, pride and affection.

Chouji is a very engaging storyteller, and half the students are gazing at Shikamaru with awe, whispering to each other around their chopsticks, while the others are looking up to Iruka as if for confirmation. "It's all true," he says to them gravely, biting back a laugh at Shikamaru's 'don't encourage them' glare. "Shikamaru-san is a very admirable ninja."

November, sitting on Iruka's right, looks suspicious. "I've seen him lying on the training field for hours, doing nothing but watching clouds. How is that admirable?"

"Right, right," Shikamaru concurs. "Being admirable would be far too much work, Iruka-sensei." There is a hint of a warning in his tone that implies he gets talked up far too much by Chouji already, and if Iruka starts impugning his lazy reputation too, he's going to have to take measures.

Not at all intimidated, Iruka smiles beatifically. "A good ninja takes his rest and leisure when he can. Remember, I know all of your abilities quite well, and there isn't one of you here who could best Shikamaru-san in either a physical fight or a battle of wits, and that includes you, November-kun. Shikamaru-san deserves your respect."

November looks thoughtful at that, and joins some of the other children in giving Shikamaru assessing glances, as though considering challenging him in the future. Which is, of course, exactly what Iruka was going for. He raises his brow almost imperceptibly at the dark scowl Shikamaru throws him, as if to say, 'your move'. He really should know better than to play with a brilliant tactician like this, but after years of Shougi with Sandaime, and especially after the few years he's lived with Kakashi, this sort of teasing is second nature.

Chouji hasn't missed a single nuance of this exchange, and laughs heartily as he swipes the last of his meat from the hibachi.

Shikamaru's expression melts from irritated to amused. "You're trouble, Iruka-sensei," he mutters, shaking his head. "I never would have guessed. Nothing but trouble."

"I could have told you that," November pipes in, to Iruka's astonishment.

***

After paying for lunch for everyone—including, at his own insistence, Shikamaru and Chouji—and exiting the restaurant, it is time to say goodbye to his class. His haze of good cheer drains away as he looks down at their sad faces, though he refuses to stop smiling.

"Now, don't be sad," he admonishes them brightly. "If you train hard, develop your abilities and graduate, we might be able to serve on missions together." He knows this isn't likely now unless they become ANBU, but says it anyway. "So do your best for your new instructor! You've all come a long way; I'm very proud of you, and I'm proud to have been your sen—" His voice finally cracks and he clamps his lips shut, clenching his teeth. His eyes burn as he notices some of the students are quietly crying, and he lowers his gaze to the ground. "I'm so proud to have been your sensei," he finishes softly.

Bren is, oddly enough, the first to leap on him, arms latched tight around his waist, sobbing into his stomach. She's the most demonstrative Hyuuga he's ever come across, he thinks distantly. He kneels down and his students surge forward. He allows them to maul him with affection, tears and snot, making sure to separate them each from the mob and hug them individually.

Only November does not cry and does not join the group, choosing instead to bide his time on the sidelines. He obviously wants to say something privately.

When Iruka has said his last goodbye to his class and sent them each on their way, wiping at the tears he doesn't know when he started to cry, he turns to November and smiles. "November-k—"

"I'll definitely serve under you," November interrupts, his voice more earnest than Iruka's ever heard it. "I'm taking the chuunin exam this year. You know I'll pass it, so I'll be your subordinate before you know it."

There's really no question about whether November will graduate or not, so Iruka doesn't point out that the kid needs to become a genin first. He also can't mention that he's in ANBU, so the chances of them serving together are very small unless November becomes ANBU, but November has the kind of talent, ambition and calculating coldness that makes ANBU membership almost a foregone conclusion anyway. "I have no doubt you will, November-kun," he says, with no qualifiers about how November still has a long way to go or that he shouldn't get ahead of himself. He knows it won't give November a swelled head like it would have if he'd said it to, say, a pre-genin Naruto.

"I'll pull whatever strings I need to pull, so..."

Iruka almost laughs, raising a brow instead. "I don't know if those kinds of strings exist these days."

November's eyes turn fierce. "I'll _make_ the strings," he growls fervently. "So stay alive, okay? Until we can look out for each other."

Iruka is looking straight into November's eyes as he speaks, and for a moment there something old and despairing in those seven-year-old orbs that reminds him so much of Kakashi that his legs get shaky. As far as he knows, November hasn't suffered any great tragedy yet in his short life, so he has no idea where this is coming from.

He bends down and puts his hands on November's deceptively thin shoulders. "You know that no ninja can promise to live, November-kun. But I will fight for my life with all my strength, you can count on that. So you do the same, and I'll be proud to serve with you, when it's time."

Even as that awful misery fades from November's gaze, his frosty blue eyes fill up with tears, and now he looks like he's seven again. In a childish gesture very remarkable for him, November holds his arms up in a silent plea. Iruka picks him up without even thinking about it, holding him tight as the boy clings to him with arms and legs, sniffling softly into his vest.

Iruka stands there for several minutes, ignoring passers-by, stroking November's fine light hair until the boy's shuddering subsides. Finally November pushes away from him, dropping his legs, and Iruka sets him down. The boy seems awfully embarrassed, unable to meet Iruka's eyes. Iruka sympathizes; for November, that was quite a spectacular display of emotion. He reaches out and ruffles the kid's hair, earning a glare that at least focuses on Iruka's face. "Take care, November-kun," he says.

November nods stiffly, smiles a little smile that just barely reaches his red-rimmed eyes, and walks away with as much dignity as he can muster.

As Iruka watches him go, he hears a voice behind him say, "I think he wants to marry you when he grows up."

Iruka snorts. "I've had seven-year-olds propose to me before, believe it or not, but I don't think November-kun has marriage to anyone in mind."

Shikamaru takes a step forward to stand beside him. "Oh, I believe it. Like I said, you're nothing but trouble, Iruka-sensei. Worse than a woman, even."

"How is Temari-san, then?" asks Iruka with a smirk.

Shikamaru scoffs. "Why is it that whenever I mention that women are troublesome, everyone thinks I mean Temari? There are other women in the world, you know."

"Are there, now?" Iruka gives Shikamaru a sidelong glance, one side of his mouth pulling up slyly.

He gets an incredulous stare, before Shikamaru shakes his head and gazes up at the clouds. "No, I suppose you're right," he says after a moment. "She _is_ the only woman in the world." He crosses his arms and looks back down at Iruka. "But my point is, you are troublesome. I would ask how Kakashi puts up with you, but if there's anyone in the village more troublesome than you, it's definitely him." He pauses. "And Naruto. Maybe Guy, but he's a whole different breed altogether."

Laughing, Iruka replies, "Well, you were plenty of trouble for me yourself, when you were my student, Shikamaru-kun."

Shikamaru puts his hands in his pockets. "Ah, I suppose I was, Sensei. You headed home?" Iruka nods. "I'll walk with you."

Iruka interprets that to mean he has something else he wants to talk about. Most likely the promotion. Being a jounin and a close advisor to the Hokage, he probably knew about Iruka's promotion before Iruka did.

"Sure," Iruka says, falling into step beside his former student. They walk in silence for a few minutes. Iruka notices the glances they get as they walk, and thinks, not for the first time, how funny it is that he and Shikamaru have ended up looking so much alike. They aren't related even distantly, except perhaps in the way that all creatures great and small are related. Yet unless one looks for Iruka's scar or Shikamaru's jagged hairline, darker hair, earring or perpetually half-mast eyelids, it's difficult to tell them apart. They didn't even look alike as children, so Iruka's not sure how it happened. Genetics are a mystery. Having the same hairstyle all the time doesn't really help, he thinks wryly. Luckily for Shikamaru, Kakashi's a master of reading chakra signatures, and the soul-bond reacts slightly with very close proximity, so there've never been any embarrassing moments of mistaken identity.

That Iruka knows about, anyway.

He shakes himself from his pondering when Shikamaru starts speaking. "So I hear you're one of us now, Sensei."

Iruka raises a brow, thinking that's an odd way for him to put it. "Konoha ninja are all 'one of us', aren't they, Shikamaru?" he asks. "Not just jounin." He doesn't bother making the distinction between tokubetsu jounin and jounin, because most of the time the line is very fine. Technically, tokubetsu jounin are a lower rank than jounin, but while the gap between chuunin and jounin can be pretty wide, the gap between jounin and tokubetsu jounin can be nonexistent. Just look at Morino Ibiki; he commands ANBU, and there's not a jounin alive who would disobey an order from that man.

"I wasn't talking about being jounin, Dagon," Shikamaru says quietly.

Iruka can't help freezing for just an instant. He can tell there's no one within hearing range, but he's still surprised Shikamaru would bring this up outside, technically in public. Though he's not surprised to learn that Shikamaru is ANBU. "Is this really a good time to discuss this?"

Shikamaru shrugs. "I'm more careful than I look, Iruka-sensei."

"I know you are," Iruka says, but his voice sounds doubtful.

When he looks over again, Shikamaru's not beside him anymore. He feels around a little with his chakra, and jumps onto the roof of the building on his right. Shikamaru's arms are crossed, neck craned back and eyes on the sky as usual.

"Better?" Shikamaru asks.

Iruka refrains from rolling his eyes. "Not really, but I trust in your discretion. Is there a reason you're bringing this up, besides letting me know that you know?"

"Kakashi's really upset. For him, I mean."

The hairs on the back of Iruka's neck stand up. Kakashi had seemed okay that morning—well, not _okay, _really, but like he'd be able to make it through the day, at least. "Shit. He...was he upset publicly? He didn't scream at the Hokage, did he? Maybe I shouldn't have gone to school today after all..."

"No, Naruto did all the screaming before Kakashi even got there." Shikamaru chuckles. "I was helping Sakura with some research just down the hall, so I heard everything pretty clearly. I wouldn't be surprised if people in Earth country know how upset he is about you being made to leave the Academy. He made such a ruckus and called Tsunade-sama so many names that she threw a full bottle of sake at him and broke his cheekbone."

Iruka gasps. "Is he—"

Shikamaru waves his hands in front of him. "He's fine, Sensei. She healed him right away, in her office, cursing up a storm the entire time. And quit feeling guilty," he says sharply.

Iruka notices that he's just barely cringing inward, and forces himself to straighten up with a sigh. "I know Naruto's reaction was inevitable, but I still hope he'll learn to control his righteous impulsiveness one day."

"Naruto's never been known for being sensible, and he never will, Iruka-sensei. It's not your fault. In fact, any sense that guy has probably comes from you."

Iruka keeps the blush off his face at the compliment. He's developed far more control over his emotions and his facial expressions than he used to have, though his control is still far from perfect. "Well, as long as he hasn't gotten himself demoted or exiled, I suppose I can stand it."

"Nah, Tsunade-sama was prepared for his onslaught. She's just been under too much pressure lately, or she wouldn't have snapped like that. Maybe. She _is_ awfully violent, even at the best of times," he mutters.

Iruka puts aside his concern about his favorite former student. "So what happened with Kakashi?"

Shikamaru looks hesitant, and when he speaks his voice is almost too low for Iruka to hear. "That's less straightforward, naturally. He came into the Tower pretty soon after Naruto left, looking normal. You know, indifferent, reading porn. He was in her office a while, and I didn't hear anything. Sakura and I were waiting at the door to go over our findings with Tsunade-sama when he came out."

Iruka is surprised when Shikamaru can't suppress a shudder. "What happened?"

"He...looked like his usual self, calm and relaxed, but there was something..." He shakes his head. "It wasn't killing intent; it was worse. I've never felt anything like it before. It was like being sucked into a nightmare dimension; I wanted to run away screaming. Neither Sakura nor I could stop shaking, not for a long time, even after he left. And Kakashi, he..." Shikamaru hesitates.

His insides twisting with fear, Iruka grabs Shikamaru's arm and gives it a shake. "What, Shikamaru?"

"Tsunade-sama came after him as he was leaving, told him to wait a minute and put a hand on his shoulder. He turned around and...yanked his mask down...he grabbed her face and kissed her, full on the lips. Really hard."

Iruka drops his hand from Shikamaru's arm. His whole body feels numb, like he's gone into shock. "Kissed...?"

Shikamaru shakes himself and glares at Iruka. "The only thing about it that resembled a normal kiss in any way, Sensei, was that their mouths were in contact, so don't get jealous. You've heard of the Kiss of Death, haven't you? I always thought that was just a stupid melodramatic expression, but it's not. You don't ever want to see it performed, I promise you. Even Tsunade-sama... after he walked away, she was so pale. She looked like she was about to cry, as if the rest of it wasn't scary enough. She went back in her office after a minute, and for the rest of the morning at least until I left, she wouldn't come out or let anyone in."

Iruka puts his face in his hands and breathes deeply for a few moments, then drops his arms and peers into Shikamaru's eyes. "You're certain this is about me being assigned to ANBU?"

"It's the only thing that makes sense. I talked to Ibiki-san about it, too, and he agrees."

"Shit, shit, shit. He's going to get himself locked up again," Iruka mutters.

"Ibiki-san has a guard on him already, but he's hoping you can keep Kakashi sane enough to stay on duty. He's on damn thin ice, though." Shikamaru sighs. "If we weren't in such dire need of new ANBU, you'd never have been assigned to us, you know. Not that you're less than capable, Sensei, but—"

"Believe me, Shikamaru, I understand. I'd better get home and see what damage control I can manage." He briefly clasps Shikamaru's shoulder. "Thanks for telling me. Um...Sakura and Tsunade-sama, are they alright, do you think?"

"I don't know. Tsunade-sama's still in her office, for all I know. Sakura went to find Naruto when I left to consult Ibiki, so she's probably okay." Shikamaru sighs at Iruka's worried frown. "I'll go back to the Tower and check on Tsunade-sama, and I'll find Sakura and make sure she's fine, so you just worry about Kakashi, Iruka-sensei."

Iruka smiles half-heartedly. "Thanks, Shikamaru. How about you, are you fine?"

"Yeah, lunch took my mind off things. You and Chouji ganging up on me like that, how could I think about anything else?"

"Only you would see that as 'ganging up'."

"Later, Iruka-sensei," Shikamaru bids, smirking.

Iruka nods, and takes off across the rooftops. Apprehension settles over him like a straitjacket as he wonders about what he will find when he gets home.


	3. Kiss of Death, Kiss of Life

This was a hellacious chapter to write, and it's reeeeally long, but I think it came out pretty decent. A note: I said 'To hell with fanon!' and made Kakashi's ANBU name Jackal. There's only one reference to it in this part, but I figured I'd clear it up before I got a bunch of people asking who the hell Jackal is.

I would like to respectfully dedicate this chapter to the eye-searing pink polka-dotted jacket Kakashi wears in the omake of episode...95, I think? I'm obsessed with that thing. It makes my eyes bleed. And have I mentioned how much it kills me (in the good way) that Toshihiko Seki is voicing Duval in One Piece? KILLS me.

Please, I implore you to leave feedback. Since I don't get paid for this, your comments are my only reward.

Bishounen and baguettes to the betas, **bronze_tigress**, **stinky_horowitz** and **venusian_eye**.

**Part 3: Kiss of Death, Kiss of Life**

Tsunade is standing up, facing the window, when Kakashi is ushered into her office by one of her new chuunin assistants. The pig, Tonton, is nestled in the corner, looking fatter than ever. Since Shizune had her soul ripped out by Pain, the pig has developed an eating disorder that no one seems inclined to curb. It _is_ a pig, after all, Kakashi supposes.

Tsunade, by contrast, looks thinner than ever, except for her breasts which never seem to change shape. Kakashi doesn't know if that's genetics or artifice, but he guesses the former, since he doesn't think any woman would deliberately make herself look that top-heavy. He's never claimed to be any sort of expert on women, though.

As he comes to a stop in front of her desk, Tsunade turns to face him, her eyes tired and her too-young face drawn. His eye is led immediately to the scar that starts high on her right cheek, traveling down her face and throat, over her internal jugular. The scar was bestowed on the Godaime by a jutsu created by Danzou specifically for use against her, to spite the vanity that drove her to conceal her age. In the unlikely event that she survived the wounds made by the jutsu, the scars left behind could not be prevented by healing or concealed by any jutsu except one that made the user completely invisible. Even in a henge form, the defect would be visible somewhere.

Tsunade has ways around that, Kakashi knows—she isn't the Hokage for her boobs, after all. But she hasn't even tried to hide the ugly scar marring her pretty face and neck; it is a war wound she is proud of. Killing Danzou, she once confided to Kakashi and Iruka after a rare night of carousing, was probably the greatest service she could have rendered to Konoha.

"If you're here to yell at me about Iruka having to leave his teaching position, save it, Kakashi," Tsunade says, waving at him dismissively. "Naruto was just here, and I've had all the screaming I can take for one morning. I won't tell you anything I didn't tell him. I didn't want to promote Iruka, but I had no choice. He's needed elsewhere."

"I didn't come to protest him leaving his post at the Academy," Kakashi responds, projecting as much good cheer as he can stand, and is amused by the wary tension that sets in his Hokage's shoulders.

She lets out a huffing chuckle, and sits down at her desk. "Is that so. I guess I know what you're here about, then. Ahhh, I was really hoping Iruka would put off telling you for a few days so I wouldn't have to deal with all this at once."

Kakashi, still standing, crosses his arms slowly over his chest. "Iruka couldn't have kept something like that from me if he wanted to."

"Is that so," Tsunade says absently.

Kakashi feels a current of rage surging from the base of his spine out to his fingertips, and quells it. "So what kind of a name is 'Dagon' for an ANBU?" he asks casually. "I've noticed that the names are getting a little strange nowadays."

Tsunade sighs, folding her hands and resting her chin on them. "We've...had a very high turnover in ANBU these last few years," she says, 'turnover' being an obvious euphemism for 'mortality rate'. "Much higher than usual. A lot of the animal names were being recycled too fast. It was lowering morale."

"That had come to my attention," Kakashi says. He's only been reinstated into ANBU for about eight months, but in that time he's already had three ANBU named 'Eagle' under his command, among a few other multiples. ANBU are supposed to be anonymous and to have no real identities, so the names should be interchangeable even among the living, but the reality is different. Friends and comrades of the first Eagle resented working with the second, as if the second Eagle was being deliberately disrespectful to the dead. The third Eagle was then scorned by the comrades of both the first and the second.

In more peaceful times, such stigma attached to a codename might not have been an issue. But the loss of so many ninja, so many ANBU, in so short a time is driving the survivors to extremes. Either they isolate, or bond fiercely. Either way, the tensions are difficult to deal with.

"I told the operative in charge of assigning code names to start branching out," Tsunade continues. "He was very happy about it. Seems he'd gotten flak for trying to do that before—you remember Chelonian?"

Kakashi chuckles, nodding. "No one could ever remember that name."

Tsunade smiles grimly. "Well, Dagon's only two syllables, so even you shouldn't have a problem remembering it, brat."

"'Even me'? Since when do I have a problem with my memory?"

"If Dagon was anyone else, I'm sure you wouldn't."

Kakashi finally sits down, hands curling over the armrests of his chair, legs crossed. He's more than ready to get to the point. "Dagon _should_ be someone else, Tsunade-san."

Tsunade closes her eyes briefly, and then looks up at the ceiling, as though imploring it for help. "I was wondering when you were going to start in on this."

"Iruka is a fine shinobi, and he'll be a great jounin. He won't be a good terrorist."

Tsunade raises a brow. "Terrorist?"

"An ANBU incendiary specialist? That's a terrorist. Don't insult me by suggesting otherwise."

"I didn't assign him a specialty, you know," Tsunade says, evasive as ever when she doesn't want to admit something. "He studied incendiary jutsu and manual explosives on his own. I'm putting him where he's needed based on the skills he possesses. You can call him a terrorist if you want, but it might make him harder to work with."

"I don't plan on working with him, not in ANBU." Kakashi can feel his anger seething just below the surface of his control, and though he's locking it down as best he can, he doesn't know how long he can have this conversation without snapping.

Tsunade raises a brow and smiles a wry little smile that Kakashi envisions cheerfully slicing off her face. "That sort of attitude will _definitely_ make him harder to work with," she comments, and there is amusement in her voice. "He won't like—"

"What do we need an incendiary specialist for on a recon mission?" he cuts in, to keep the dam from breaking. He knows the hastiness of his interruption is his desperation showing through, and puts more effort into reining it in.

"It's not just a recon mission," Tsunade responds, serious again. "Sunagakure is doing the recon; ours is an assassination mission, now. If there are no serious complications, perhaps there will be no need for any 'terrorism'--" Kakashi can almost hear the quotes around the word, "--but we have reason to believe things could get very nasty in Wind Country. We'll go over all that in the briefing you'll get closer to your departure time, when we receive the new intel from Suna; for now, all the information you need to prepare is in the mission packet you—"

"Hokage-sama, please," Kakashi says, feeling stretched and warped out of shape. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. "Please remove Iruka from my team. Please get him out of ANBU. He's useful enough as a jounin; he doesn't need to... Tsunade-sama, I could bear anything but this. I'll do anything." His pride just barely keeps him from kneeling down and bowing his head to the floor.

Tsunade's eyes harden. "Now this is very surprising," she murmurs. "Of all people, I never expected you to give in to such weakness, Kakashi."

Kakashi's insides twist. His eye narrows as he sits up straight again.

Tsunade's hands drop, her arms folding on the desktop. "You're putting your needs before the needs of your country and your village because of Iruka, again? Perhaps I made a mistake, allowing your relationship to continue as it has."

"Tsunade," Kakashi growls under his breath, warning.

"What would Iruka say, if he heard you talking like this?" Tsunade continues, her voice low and harsh. "He understands that we all have to put the village's needs before our own. Me, you, everyone. None of this has anything to do with what we _want,_ what we think we can or can't live with. I thought that was something you understood as well, Kakashi, despite your indiscretion a few years back. Is this a lesson you still haven't learned? Do I need to take measures to ensure that the relationship between the two of you will not compromise the effectiveness of either of you?"

"Do you expect that our effectiveness _won't_ be compromised if you separate us?" His voice is still low, controlled, but there is a slight tremor in it that infuriates him.

"Maybe it will, but if you make yourself useless to me before I do, it won't matter, will it?" Tsunade leans forward, her hands clawing against her forearms and the wood of her desk. "If need be, Kakashi, I will forbid you and Iruka from being personally involved with each other. I know you have some sort of jutsu binding the two of you together, but you will both just have to live with the pain of separation, if that is the only way to get you to stop being so goddamn selfish," her voice sinks to a grating hiss as her fists thunk down on her desk, "and _get your priorities in order like the shinobi you are_!"

Kakashi is completely stunned. He had, up until this point, considered his Hokage a friend, but he will never make that mistake again. The rage inside breaks free in the form of a seething black hatred that seems to ooze from his skin like poison, invisible but cloying. He abruptly stands, his burning eye on his betrayer. "I see," is all he says, but it sounds like a curse.

Tsunade can obviously sense the change in the atmosphere; she looks a little shaken. Kakashi takes great pleasure in seeing her disturbed. "Kakashi, wait. Sit down," she orders, but it's too late, even if she realizes she's miscalculated. For what she's said, Kakashi will never forgive her.

He turns and starts toward the door.

"You're not dismissed yet, shinobi!" she calls after him, but he doesn't stop. He gets to the door and opens it, hearing her footsteps as she comes after him. She lays a hand on his arm. "Kakashi, wait a minute," she says.

Having her treacherous fingers on him is the last straw. Whirling on her, he acts completely on instinctive impulse. He rips his mask down, heedless of who might see, and grabs her cheeks hard, like he wants to crush her face. He forces his mouth over hers and, using his breath, his tongue and all the force of his chakra, pushes his venomous loathing into her, as much as he can, as hard as he can stand it.

When he pulls away she is shaking, and stinks of fear. Painful satisfaction rips at him again, and he's sorry she's too strong for him to cause her to lose control of her bodily functions. "If you think you can separate us, go ahead and try," he hisses, almost too low for even her exceptional hearing. "See what happens." He releases her and smiles, feeling in control of himself once again. He pulls up his mask, turns and strolls off, nodding at Sakura and Shikamaru, who are hovering nearby and looking very ill.

Kakashi goes straight home from the Hokage Tower, only detouring around Guy and Neji, who are racing boisterously across the rooftops. Well, Neji is only boisterous by association, he supposes, smirking at the young man's indignant scowl. Kakashi knows from talking to Neji that the scowl serves to disguise a persistent, perpetually annoyed sort of affection.

Guy has been harassing Neji quite a lot lately, to distract him from his upcoming arranged marriage to his cousin, Hinata. Violating the incest taboo is quite a price to pay for becoming the next head of the main family, but in light of the dwindling number of strong Byakugan users remaining in the Hyuuga clan, Kakashi can understand Hiashi's decision. If the genetics play out as they should, Neji and Hinata will have some very formidable offspring.

Assuming anyone can ever get them drunk enough to actually have sex, that is.

Kakashi skirts the edges of Guy's perception—he really doesn't want to get roped into whatever Guy has planned for Neji—and slips feet-first into the window he left open at home, pulsing chakra through his soles to disable the wards.

The mask of Dagon is still sitting in the pile of mirror shards, and he stares down at it with numb indifference for a few moments before picking it up and depositing it on top of the knapsack on the kitchen table, where it thunks softly against the body armor in the bag.

He returns to the living room with a broom and a cardboard box, sweeping the remains of the mirror into the box and then taking the empty frame off the wall. He lugs them both out to the dumpster and tosses them in.

He returns to the apartment, takes off his mask and hangs it on the keyrack. He stands by the front door for a moment, staring blankly into space, thinking. His mind is not providing him with any helpful solutions to the problem of Dagon, except for fleeing the country. Becoming a missing-nin would go hard against his grain, but he could do it, for Iruka's sake.

He won't, though, because he knows it would be mostly for his own sake, if he left now, more to spare himself anguish than to spare Iruka. And there's no way Iruka would go with him voluntarily. Iruka might be capable of outspoken defiance, but in his own way he's one of the strongest patriots Kakashi knows, vehemently supportive of his country without being blind to its flaws.

Kakashi might be able to force Iruka to leave, somehow, but he won't do that, either. The resentment it would sow aside, he promised himself a long time ago that he would never force Iruka to do anything ever again, not after what happened last time. He's not in the habit of breaking promises to himself or anyone else, and now is not the time to start.

Unable to think of anything useful and feeling restless, Kakashi heads into the kitchen and searches the fridge and the cupboards for something to make for dinner. It's a bit early, only one in the afternoon, and he finds duck confit, fresh pork belly, plenty of sausages and several cans of white beans, so he decides to make a cassoulet.

The cooking relaxes him, the busywork of simmering the beans and pork without turning them to mush, browning the sausages, and layering the ingredients in the dutch oven keeping his mind from picking at the consequences that might ensue from his earlier meeting with the Hokage.

As the afternoon wears on, he feels the presence of several ANBU stationing themselves around the apartment. It occurs to him that if he gets himself taken off duty, Iruka will still be in ANBU _and_ there will be someone else leading the mission to Wind Country.

For the first time, he realizes that Iruka having his first mission as ANBU under Kakashi's command might actually have something to do with Tsunade's consideration for Kakashi's feelings, as preposterous as that seems. ANBU rarely remain on the same team for successive missions unless they work very well together; there are only a few ANBU partnerships that Kakashi can think of offhand. Tsunade is giving him and Iruka a chance right away to test their skills together, and...

Kakashi has been so preoccupied with the horror of having to be Iruka's ANBU captain, that he hasn't really thought about the horror of Iruka having someone else as a captain. When Kakashi's in mission-mode, it won't really make any difference—it's not as though he'll be able to spare Iruka from anything, or that he'll protect him the way he would if Iruka was his genin student. But it could make quite a lot of difference, once the objectives are cleared.

It's almost enough to make him feel a little regretful of his behavior toward the Godaime, but not quite.

When the cassoulet is nearly done after its third hour in the oven, Iruka comes home. Kakashi puts Icha Icha Nuisance back in his pocket and walks to the front door when he hears the keys jingling, and pulls his partner inside before he has a chance to completely open the door. He wraps his arms tight around Iruka's chest, breathing in the latent scents of antibacterial ointment, tears and grilled beef.

"Hmm, let's see... you had the kids do training exercises and then took them out for barbecue?" he asks. He likes playing Guess What Iruka Did Today by smell.

Iruka hugs him hard enough that his ribs creak. "Yeah. Battle simulations. I figured I might as well give them a practical review. It was fun," he finishes softly. "Lunch was fun, too."

"You break your bank?"

He can feel Iruka smile against the side of his neck. "Possibly. It was 'all you can eat' day, though, so I'm not in too much trouble. Besides, I've got a better pay grade now."

Kakashi makes a face. "Don't remind me," he says sourly. "You run into Chouji?"

"He and Shikamaru ate with us."

"Hn." Kakashi pulls away a little, looking into his partner's face. "You doing okay?"

Iruka smiles, kissing him softly. "Yeah. I had a good time today. I thought it would be a lot harder than it was...I guess it hasn't really hit me yet, that I'm not going back. I have to go clean out my desk tomorrow. I really should have done it today, but..." His gaze becomes unsettled, sharpened.

Kakashi can tell from that look that Iruka's heard something troubling about him. He puts together Shikamaru's presence when he left the Hokage's office and his presence at the barbecue, and sighs inwardly, pulling away. "You hungry again, yet?"

"I could eat," Iruka says doubtfully, pulling off his flak vest and hanging it up by the door. "Something smells terrific."

"Cassoulet," Kakashi informs him, heading to the kitchen to take it out of the oven just as the timer starts chiming. "And salade Niçoise with aioli."

Iruka picks his ANBU gear off the table and dumps it unceremoniously in the corner. "French tonight, huh? Mm, I'll do my best to do it justice, but..."

"If there's too much leftover, we can always give some to Naruto and Sai when they come for breakfast," Kakashi says, getting serving utensils while Iruka sets the table—forks tonight, no chopsticks. Kakashi insists upon it with foreign food.

"I noticed the mirror by the hallway is missing," Iruka mentions as he puts down plates. "Did you move it?"

"I broke it. Hope you weren't really attached to it, or something." Kakashi breaking things is a frequent enough occurrence, and usually he does it for fun, so it shouldn't cause Iruka undue alarm.

Iruka shrugs. "It's just a mirror. You weren't hurt, were you?"

Thinking of the shallow lacerations on his knees and shins, Kakashi answers, "Nope."

"Hm. That all you did today? Cook and break stuff?" Iruka asks. His back is to Kakashi, so Kakashi can't see his partner's expression.

"No," Kakashi answers. Iruka turns to look at him, and he smiles in what he hopes is a disarmingly cheerful way. "Let's eat." Iruka won't bring up anything unpleasant until after the meal, and Kakashi hasn't decided how he's going to field Iruka's questions yet.

Iruka's penetrating gaze indicates he knows Kakashi's just stalling, but he sits down and starts digging into the salad instead of calling him on it. Kakashi brings the dutch oven to the table, setting it on a cast-iron trivet, and sits down to join Iruka.

Dinner goes far too fast for Kakashi's liking. Iruka makes a lot of appreciative noises, but he's obviously still full from the barbecue. Kakashi hasn't really eaten since breakfast, but he's not hungry either. So with the little they've put on their plates barely half-finished, they both set down their forks and get up to clear the table.

Neither of them says anything as Kakashi puts the food in Tupperware boxes, and Iruka cleans the dishes. When the kitchen is as tidy as it's going to get, Iruka heads into the living room and sits in one of the armchairs opposite their couch, raising a brow at Kakashi, who's still standing just in his line of sight by the refrigerator.

Knowing he can't put off the imminent conversation, however it will go, Kakashi strolls casually into the room and flops down on the sofa. "Something's bothering you?" he asks. "Other than the obvious, I mean."

Iruka shakes his head a little, as though to scoff at Kakashi's coyness. "I couldn't help noticing that somehow in the time I was gone, you've managed to get an ANBU guard put on you."

Kakashi squashes the impulse to scratch the back of his head and wave off the concern. That would probably not go over well. "Ah..."

"Shikamaru told me something interesting, after lunch."

"What was that?"

"He said," Iruka grumbles, his eyes darkening, "that you kissed Tsunade-sama."

Kakashi feels a slight, shocking jolt as it occurs to him for the first time how his aggression might have read to any passers-by. He curses himself for allowing his preoccupation to blind him to something so obvious. "It wasn't a kiss," he says firmly, hands gripping his knees. "Not at all." Fucking Shikamaru, what does he think he's doing, telling Iruka something like that?

"He did mention that it was more like a bazooka to the face than an expression of affection," Iruka concedes, a slight twinkle in his eye indicating he'd only used the word 'kissed' to dig at Kakashi, before his expression turns grim. "You scared them. Badly. Tsunade-sama, Shikamaru and Sakura." His eyes narrow. "Would you like to tell me why?" he asks in a voice that makes it clear that telling him is not optional.

Kakashi relaxes, glad he won't have to rout the notion that he's having an affair with the Hokage from his partner's head—they have quite enough problems as it is—and that he won't have to kill Shikamaru, as he likes the guy pretty well. The tension creeps into him again, though, as his conversation with Tsunade begins replaying in his head. His hands twitch a little, as telling a sign of his infuriation as if he'd balled them into fists. "She threatened to forbid us from having a relationship," he snarls.

He hears a very small hitch in Iruka's breathing, and opens his mouth to reassure Iruka that he would never let anything come between them, even a stupidly powerful old battleaxe of a bitch like Tsunade, but Iruka's next question freezes him.

"What did you say to her that would make her consider that a necessary possibility, Kakashi?" His voice is flat, strained.

Floored, Kakashi rises from his seat, staring down incredulously at Iruka. "Who fucking cares what I said?! How is that in any way justifiable? She—"

"Kakashi," Iruka says, standing up as well. His head is slightly bowed, shadowing his eyes. "Tsunade-sama would not say something like that unless she had a reason to believe that our being together would detract from our ability to act as Konoha's weapons. She's not in a position to be able to overlook any sign of possible weakness, no matter how friendly we might be with her in casual circumstances. She is the Hokage, and her priority is Konoha, not our relationship. Our priorities are the same, Kakashi, or they should be."

Feeling betrayed, Kakashi lashes out with, "What are you, her puppet?"

Iruka's hands fist and Kakashi can see the muscles in his neck tighten. "It is our prerogative and our duty, Kakashi-_san_, to be the best tools we can be. The sake of Konoha is part of it, but for myself, it's also for the sake of not being parted from you by death, duty, underdeveloped abilities or the inability to cope. I can take having to leave the Academy. I can handle becoming a tokubetsu jounin, even joining ANBU. Tsunade-sama knows that, or she wouldn't have promoted me. Konoha's situation is dire, but we're not so desperate that Tsunade-sama would fill ANBU with incompetents just to keep it running. You know that too, if you would quit thinking about how this affects _you_ for two seconds," Iruka growls. He looks up, his eyes burning and ferocious. "I can guess what you said to Tsunade-sama—to remove me from ANBU, either because I can't handle it or _you_ can't handle it. Probably both. And when she wouldn't listen to you, and tried to put you in your place the way a superior has to do when her subordinates are being _idiots_, you got pissed enough to threaten her."

"I never threatened her," Kakashi says automatically.

"Please," Iruka hisses. "You don't get an ANBU guard for just thumbing your nose at the Hokage. If that were the case, half my students would have a guard on them."

Kakashi puts a hand on his partner's arm. "Look...I won't deny that you've got a decent handle on the situation. But you have to—"

"Damn it, Kakashi!" Iruka roars, flinging his hand away and stepping forward, seizing him by the collar, shaking him. "You're so fucking stupid sometimes! You couldn't have gotten any other outcome from asking the Hokage to take me out of ANBU than her telling you to suck it up, not with the way things have been going lately! You had to know that as well as I do, and you think I'll blame _her_ if she's forced to separate us?! You think I'll blame the _Hokage_ because you're completely incapable of acting like an adult when something doesn't go your way?!!"

He's practically screeching now, tears brimming in his eyes. Kakashi's stunned; he's never seen Iruka lose it like this, in hysterics. Iruka's scared, Kakashi realizes. Terrified of being separated from Kakashi. More scared of that than anything else. Kakashi empathizes completely. After all, he admits reluctantly, that's what drove him to react so badly to Tsunade's ultimatum.

He flings his arms around Iruka, whose hands are still fisted in his collar, and buries his face in his partner's shoulder. He holds on tight until the trembling tension in Iruka's body begins to subside, and the grip at his neck loosens. He lifts his mouth from the cloth of Iruka's shirt just enough that his voice isn't muffled when he whispers, "I'm sorry."

"I don't need a 'sorry'," Iruka snaps unsteadily.

Kakashi holds him tighter. "What could I do? It might sound weird, coming from me, but I don't think I can handle this. You in ANBU, giving you those orders...I could do anything else, but that's just..."

"Something like this is not beyond your capabilities, Kakashi," Iruka says, his voice evening out and quieting. "You don't want to, and I don't want you to have to if it's this painful for you, but it isn't up to us."

Kakashi grimaces, drawing back just enough to look into Iruka's face. There's no trace of the panic that was on it just a minute ago; there's just a sad smile and eyes full of reasonable compassion. Kakashi applauds inwardly that his partner has gotten himself back under control so quickly. He wouldn't have always been able to; the training he's been undergoing for the past couple of years has really paid off. He would have had to be extremely unsettled to go off like that in the first place. Kakashi feels a prick of guilt in his chest.

He forces his thoughts back to the matter at hand. "You've read my ANBU dossier," he starts.

Iruka nods. "A few times." After he'd been living with Iruka for a year, Tsunade and Ibiki had decided that Iruka should read it, since Iruka had become Kakashi's 'handler'--Ibiki's word. Kakashi had been livid at first, since he didn't like the idea of Iruka treating him like a mission or a patient, and he didn't want Iruka to know about every single crime against humanity he was capable of perpetrating. Iruka refused outright to read it without the go-ahead from Kakashi, and—luckily for all of them—he hadn't been ordered to. Instead, Tsunade and Ibiki had worn on Kakashi, pressing on him the advantages of full disclosure (which Kakashi still couldn't see) and the unlikelihood that Iruka would start treating him differently or hold anything he'd been ordered to do against him. He'd relented with misgivings after several weeks of their harassment, still unable to understand why they thought this was so important. But they were at least correct that Iruka's behavior toward him didn't alter. Iruka had never brought the subject up, actually, never asked him about any of those old missions, or tried to make him talk about them the way Tsunade sometimes did. Kakashi hadn't even been absolutely certain Iruka had read his files until this moment.

Kakashi smiles, lacing his finger's behind Iruka's neck. "Do you remember the mission I was on, about thirteen years ago, where we raped and cut up those little girls? Or ten years ago, when I burned that boy's eyes out with acid in front of his mother?"

Iruka's facial expression doesn't change as he nods again.

Still smiling, Kakashi asks, "Do you really think those are things I could order you to do?"

Without missing a beat, Iruka says, "You're not fond of Dagon. You could order him to do them. And Jackal definitely could, whether it was me or Dagon."

Kakashi's not sure what's showing on his face, but whatever it is makes Iruka's hands grip his waist tightly. "Let's say that's true," Kakashi says, conceding to himself that it probably is. "Let's say I could give those orders to you, and you could carry them out. Could you live with yourself, after? When you're just at home, making tea and pretending to be human?"

Iruka's mouth twists ruefully. "Possibly not. Better men than me have committed seppuku while suffering from lesser offenses. But," he continues, as Kakashi's eye widens, "I could live with you. We will help each other survive. Our dependence on each other is something I plan to take full advantage of under these circumstances. We're lucky, in a way, Kakashi, as long as we don't allow our bond to become a weakness." His face twists in a snarl as he raises his hands to Kakashi's face, nails clawing the sides of his partner's head. "Which is why if you force Tsunade-sama's hand and drive her to permanently separate us, I will _never_ forgive you."

Kakashi shakes his head as much as he can with Iruka still gripping it, his hands sliding away from the back of Iruka's head to grip his shoulders. "How can you say you'd live with me, when I would be the one who forced you to do such abominable things?"

Iruka's arms drop, and he folds them over his chest. "This is why I say you're an idiot sometimes, Kakashi. It's not in my nature to hold my commanding officers' orders against them, you know that. I'll speak out against whatever I think is unjust or unfair, but I won't argue with a field command. Unless I truly believe my commanding officer is unfit for duty, I won't disobey a direct order, and I won't blame my commander for giving it."

"I think the reality of this is going to be a lot harder than you think it is."

One of Iruka's mirthless chuckles grates on Kakashi's ears. "Yeah, I'm sure it will. But luckily, the majority of ANBU missions aren't that different from regular jounin missions. The really ugly stuff is only once in a while, isn't it? Maybe I'll be lucky. I'm not counting on it, but it's possible. Besides, ANBU doesn't have a monopoly on the unspeakable. In our line of work, no matter who you are, you run across terrible things. That's just the life we've chosen."

Dropping his forehead against his partner's, Kakashi whispers, "Did we really choose this life, Iruka? Who the fuck would _choose_ this? A decision you make as a kid...can you really be held to that for the rest of your life?"

"Obviously, the answer to that is yes," Iruka retorts. "It's not like you to be philosophical about this subject, Kakashi. You can't question your entire life just because I've been appointed to ANBU." His voice is lightly chastising, but hints at something very hard underneath.

Kakashi lets go of Iruka and flops down on the couch. He rests his elbow on the arm, putting his forehead in his hand. "No, not for my sake, I'm not. There's no way I could stop being a ninja now, anyway. I wouldn't be able to survive doing anything else." He cocks his head. "Except stripping, maybe, but I'm not as young as I used to be."

Iruka snorts. "If I had to pay to see that, I would. Lucky for my bank account that you love me enough not to charge."

They smirk at each other for a minute, and Kakashi considers the wisdom of asking Iruka for a lap dance. The seriousness that still lingers in his partner's expression deters him, and he sighs heavily. "I guess you want me to apologize to Tsunade, huh."

Before Iruka can answer, there is a knock at the door. Kakashi doesn't bother raising his head as Iruka goes to answer it, but he does when he hears Iruka exclaim, "Tsunade-sama! Ibiki-san!"

His eye narrows. Ibiki has been over once or twice, and he and Iruka have socialized with the Hokage before, but she's never showed up at their apartment.

"How many times do I have to tell you to knock it off with the '-sama' in private, Iruka?" Tsunade snaps, but there's no bite in her words. Apparently she means to indicate that she and Ibiki are not there on official business. Kakashi doesn't know if that's worrisome or not, but he doesn't want to let that woman into his home.

He gets up and stands next to his slightly pale partner, putting a discreetly reassuring hand on the small of Iruka's back, smiling inwardly at the vicious glare his partner shoots him. He stares coldly at the Hokage, ignoring Ibiki for now. "To what do we owe the honor?"

"We need to talk," Tsunade says bluntly. "Things got ugly in my office earlier, and I don't think they needed to. I accept most of the responsibility for that." She raises a brow at him. "I would prefer not to discuss this on your doorstep, Kakashi."

"Of course," Iruka says, backing away from the door to let them in. "I'll—"

Kakashi stretches his arm across the door frame, blocking the entrance. "And what part of this can't wait until tomorrow, in your office?" he says, voice steely. "Isn't this between you and me? Why do we need to bother Iruka and Ibiki with our...disagreement?"

"Let us in, Kakashi," Ibiki says with quiet menace. It's a pretty normal tone of voice for him, but something in it indicates that he's had a long day, he's not in the mood to stand outside while Kakashi and Tsunade quibble, and he's not prepared to put up with it.

After a few seconds Kakashi relents, dropping his arm and stepping back while they enter, kicking off their shoes and each dropping into an armchair. Kakashi can hear Iruka banging around in the kitchen, probably making tea. Maybe getting alcohol, since it's Tsunade. He sits on the couch, staring hard at Ibiki and Tsunade, who regard him as they might a possibly-rabid wolverine.

"Don't get me wrong," Tsunade starts, which seems to Kakashi to be a rather inauspicious beginning to the conversation. "What you did...shit, I'm not even sure what exactly it was that you did, but it went well beyond insubordination, Kakashi. In front of witnesses, even—it's not like you to be that careless." Her eyes drop. "What I said, Kakashi, about separating you and Iruka...well. I won't say that I didn't mean it, but if your reaction was anything to go by, it was a card played far too early. My purpose was to foster obedience at the expense of your anger and insolence, not to provoke you to the point of turning completely and possibly irrevocably against me. Your reaction was far beyond anything I expected, but Ibiki tells me that the nature of this bond you two have is such that I _should_ have expected it."

The scarred man in the chair next to her nods his head once. "I think we should reconsider—"

Tsunade holds up a hand. "Let's wait for Iruka. I told him before that I would leave this decision up to him, so he ought to be here while we discuss it."

"Discuss what?" Kakashi asks. The turn this conversation seems to be taking is making him very uneasy.

Iruka returns to the room, carrying a tray filled with mugs of beer; Kakashi notes with amusement that there are eight mugs for the four of them. Iruka neatly drags a little coffee table closer between the chairs and the couch with his foot, and sets the tray down on it. He looks up and smiles, sitting down next to Kakashi and primly crossing his legs. "Help yourselves, Tsunade-san, Ibiki-san."

Tsunade takes a mug with a wide grin. "Such a good host, Iruka," she says, and drains it in one go.

Ibiki nods as he takes his own, mutters "Kanpai" and drinks at a far more leisurely pace.

Kakashi doesn't feel like doing Tsunade or Ibiki the courtesy of drinking with them, but of course Iruka picks up two mugs and hands one to him with a 'drink, or else' gleam in his eye. Kakashi sips at the dark red brew a bit resentfully.

"So what were you saying we should reconsider, Ibiki?" Kakashi asks, when he figures the silence has gone on long enough.

"We should reconsider having Tsunade-san study the bond between you. It will be better if she knows exactly what she's dealing with, so there are no more blow-ups like today's," Ibiki says, resting his half-full mug on his thigh.

Iruka's brow furrows. "Tsunade-san...you don't need our permission to look into that."

"Why not?" Kakashi counters. "She said she wouldn't unless you thought it was necessary. You think it's all right for the Hokage to tell people she'll do one thing and then do whatever she wants, regardless? Is that your idea of a good leader?"

Iruka turns to him, surprised. "Of course I'm not saying that, Kakashi, but—"

The Hokage thunks her second empty mug down on the tray. "Asking you _is_ just a formality, Iruka, but I would like you to agree to it."

Iruka eyes her warily. Kakashi is pleased with his caution.

"I'm prepared to grant Kakashi immunity from any forbidden or otherwise illegal acts pertaining to this jutsu," she continues. "No matter where he got it or what it does, I won't take any action against him. I've got a signed document to that effect in my office; I'll have a copy delivered to you tomorrow."

"Well," Iruka says, looking thoughtful, "if that's the case, I see no reason to protest. What do you think, Kakashi?"

Kakashi doesn't want the Hokage looking into the soul bond. If by some one-in-a-billion chance she discovers a way to undo it without killing one or both of them, he has no doubt she'll want to try it. Whatever strength they draw from each other, the fact remains that separation is an exploitable weakness for them that Tsunade will want to eliminate if she can. He's as firm in his belief that the jutsu can't be undone as he ever was, but he doesn't want to take any chances.

He understands that his feelings are self-serving, though, and knows that there's no way he can oppose this. At best, he'll get a tag-team lecture from Tsunade and Iruka about putting his own desires before the needs of Konoha; at worst, Ibiki will haul him off to their new and improved chakra-draining prison cells for trying to choke the Hokage with a broken beer mug.

He hopes he doesn't sound too snippy as he smiles and says, "I think Tsunade-san will do what she pleases."

Ibiki, Iruka and Tsunade all give him a look, and he gets the feeling they're all restraining themselves from rolling their eyes at him.

Tsunade sighs, and picks up another mug of beer. "That'll have to do, I suppose. Can I have Ibiki call off the dogs, Kakashi, or do you have some more hoodoo you want to try out on me?"

"Hoodoo?" Kakashi inquires, raising a brow.

Iruka smirks. "Shikamaru said you gave Tsunade the 'Kiss of Death'."

"Isn't that something only certain mobsters can do?" Ibiki asks.

"Apparently not," Kakashi says. "Though I have been undercover with the yakuza a few times. Maybe I picked it up there." He lifts a brow, peering at Tsunade. "I could attempt the Hug of Permanent Paralysis. Or the Snuggle of Septic Infection."

Tsunade groans. "How about you just answer my question, Kakashi. Are we okay, or do I need to have you babysat?"

They're not okay. Kakashi doesn't know if they ever will be again, but he's willing to pretend, for his sake and Iruka's. "Sure, we're fine. Should we kiss and make up?" He leers, and almost laughs when Tsunade actually pales a bit.

"Keep your damn lips to yourself," she growls. "Thanks to you, I don't think I'll ever let a man's lips touch mine again in this lifetime." She drains her beer, sets the mug on the table and stands. Ibiki stands as well, putting down his own empty mug.

"See us out, Kakashi," says Ibiki, and Kakashi assumes that means he wants to speak to him privately, or at least without Iruka around. Iruka picks up on that easily, and after clasping hands with their guests in farewell, heads off down the hallway.

Kakashi walks his Hokage and the interrogator to the door, silent as they pull on their shoes. When he opens the door for them, Tsunade nods at him and heads off, while Ibiki just waits on the landing. Kakashi steps outside and closes the door behind him, turning his attention to Ibiki.

"Should I take your guard off, Kakashi? Don't lie."

That he shouldn't lie would usually go without saying. Ibiki's obviously picked up on more of Kakashi's mental state than he would have liked, if Ibiki felt it necessary to state that. "You can call them off," he says slowly. "I lost control earlier. Briefly. I was caught off-guard. You know how rarely that happens."

Ibiki nods. "I know. But you're still radiating a pretty nasty aura, Kakashi. You're obviously still disturbed."

"Radiating...?"

"I just mean normal body language signals, not anything like Shikamaru described to me. I would really like to have seen that myself," the scarred man muses.

Kakashi snorts. "I'd try and call it up again, but I don't feel like kissing you right now."

"Maybe later, then, if I can piss you off enough," Ibiki says, giving Kakashi a parody of his own leering that is both disturbing and strangely sexy.

Kakashi crosses his arms and leans against the door, looking up at the stars twinkling overhead. "I'm upset. I don't like having the Hokage threaten to destroy the best thing I've ever had. Can you blame me?"

"You know she wouldn't actually separate the two of you unless she felt she had no other option."

"That's just it," Kakashi says, mouth thinning to a line. "She didn't even suggest another option. The first thing out of her mouth was 'I'll separate you'. As easy as threatening to send a couple of toddlers into different rooms."

Ibiki leans on the door next to him. "There's been a lot of unrest recently," he admits. "You know about some of it. There've been so many changes lately, and too many deaths. Pain's attack and Danzou's insurrection undermined a lot of the confidence people had in Tsunade-san, even though we triumphed over both of them in the end. She needs to build up her image, and Konoha's, at home as much as abroad. She also needs some training in how to handle you and Iruka."

"Is that why you're here?" Kakashi's mouth curves slightly in amusement. "You cracking the whip on her?"

"She consulted me, I advised her." Ibiki shrugs. "We ended up here."

Kakashi would bet a considerable sum that there's a lot more to it than that, if he knows Ibiki. Reassured by the knowledge that Ibiki is the one who orchestrated this little visit, he relaxes more than he has since before breakfast.

"Tsunade can't afford to have her nins defying her, especially not ninja as high-profile and as highly placed as you, Kakashi," Ibiki continues. "So I don't really blame her for threatening to use a bone-saw to remove a splinter instead of a pair of tweezers. It was just a miscalculation."

"I wasn't defying her," Kakashi insists.

Ibiki raises a brow at him. "You didn't say that you wouldn't work with Iruka in ANBU?"

Kakashi has to concede that could be construed as defiance. "I hadn't defied her yet," he corrects.

Ibiki smiles. "And you certainly won't now, will you? Now that Iruka's convinced you that you have to let him do his job whether you like it or not."

Kakashi stares at him. "Who said he's convinced me of that?"

"I know you two," Ibiki replies. Kakashi thinks he looks smug, but it might be his imagination. "Even if by some miracle you actually had talked the Hokage into booting him from ANBU, he'd never have accepted it, you know. Not if the reasoning behind it was as pathetic as yours was."

Kakashi sighs a little. "Yeah, you're right. I acted too impulsively. I should have made up something pro-Konoha before I went to the Tower this morning, but..." He trails off, remembering how distraught he'd been after Iruka left the apartment. "Not all my synapses were firing."

Ibiki steps away from the door, sticking his hands in his pockets. "I'll call the boys off. Just watch your step, Kakashi." He gives a slight smile. "You should go inside and screw your man, because you're not going to see much of him for the next two weeks. ANBU cram school's quite a bitch, if you recall."

"Sound advice," Kakashi says, and Ibiki flashes a few seals and vanishes.

Kakashi goes back into the apartment, snagging the two full mugs of beer left on the table as he passes it—no sense letting it sit out and go flat. He walks down the hallway to the bedroom, and stands in the doorway for a minute, gazing at Iruka. His partner is lying on their bed on top of the covers, hair down and clad only in blue plaid pyjama pants, hands folded behind his head as he stares up at the ceiling. It's not really late enough for bed, but Iruka once told him that wearing pyjamas makes a day feel officially over. Kakashi can sympathize with that; today feels like it's been long enough for four or five days, at least. He's more than happy to put an end to it.

After certain...considerations, of course.

Grinning, he pads lightly to the bed, sitting down cross-legged on it and plunking one beer mug onto Iruka's chest. "Drink and be merry, for tomorrow you die, Sensei," he chirps, before remembering that he meant to stop calling Iruka that.

"Tomorrow and every day for at least the next two weeks," replies Iruka. He holds the mug steady as he sits up and scoots back against his pillows. He smiles, and it has a tinge as bitter as the lager. "People are still going to call me 'Sensei', aren't they," he says, sounding both resigned and slightly hopeful.

Kakashi considers making a kage bunshin so he can punch himself in the face for being an idiot. "If you don't want them to, they won't, if I have anything to say about it."

Iruka waves a hand at him. "No, no. Don't bother trying to get people to stop; I've been called 'Sensei' since before I was officially a teacher. A lot of people don't even know my actual name, I'd bet."

"Like hell they don't."

"And can you imagine trying to get Naruto to stop calling me 'Iruka-sensei'? It'd be like the time I tried explaining to him that honey is bee vomit. All he'd say was, 'People don't eat vomit; people throw up vomit.' When he decides something is the way it is, all the logic, books, charts and graphs in the world won't change that boy's mind." Iruka chuckles and takes a gulp of beer.

"He said he'd give it a shot when I talked to him about it this morning," Kakashi informs him.

Iruka looks up at him slowly. "You talked to him about it?"

Kakashi half-smiles. "Yeah. I asked him to try not to call you that anymore, because I figured you wouldn't want the constant reminder. Then, of course, I forget myself and slip up before he has a chance to, damn it."

He gulps down most of his beer as Iruka stares at him, exhaling the built-up gas silently from his nose. Iruka puts his mug down on his night table, and then takes Kakashi's and sets it on the table as well. In one swift move, he slips into Kakashi's lap, arms and legs wrapping tightly around him, and kisses him. Kakashi's lips and skin burn where Iruka touches him, as though he's been dusted with cayenne pepper.

Iruka pulls back just as Kakashi's beginning to forget crucial information like his name and where the lube is, and whispers against his mouth, "You're so good sometimes, sweetheart."

Kakashi's nerves purr warmly at the endearment. Iruka never _ever _uses them outside of the bedroom, not even in the rest of the house when no one else is around. He doesn't even use them in the bedroom that often, either, so when he does, Kakashi cherishes it. "You need reminding, my love?" he asks, grinding his semi-hard cock gently into his partner's backside.

Iruka pulls back a bit more, to Kakashi's disappointment. "I mean considerate," he clarifies. His eyes lower a little. "The constant reminder...you're right, I would rather do without it at this point in time, with everything else that's going on. And I feel like I—"

"If this sentence contains the words 'don't deserve', I'm going to bite you in the not-fun way," Kakashi warns him.

Iruka's mouth stays open on his next word for a second, as the sides of his mouth pull up. "Like I want you to top me, tonight," he finishes.

"Ooo, nice save," Kakashi drawls, pushing Iruka onto his back.

"Wait," Iruka continues, putting a hand up to prevent Kakashi from diving for his lips. Kakashi pouts dramatically, and Iruka snorts. "Don't bother about the whole 'Sensei' thing, Kakashi. I'll get used to the reminder soon enough; I probably won't even think about it enough for it to be an issue. My feelings about it are divided anyway, so we might as well take the path of least resistance."

Kakashi circumvents the hand, going for Iruka's ear instead of his mouth. "So wise, _Sensei,_" he thrums into his partner's ear, his voice as deep as it can go. It sounds, even to Kakashi's own ears, like he dragged the words through bitter molasses and wrapped them in velvet.

Even so, Iruka's voice is even deeper and smoother when he groans and says, "I'll get over any lingering reservations pretty quickly if you keep saying it like that. When we're alone," he qualifies hastily, before Kakashi can file the words away for future defense.

Ah, well. He'll think of a loophole when and if he needs one, or he'll just accept his punishment. It's happened before. Rather a lot, now that he thinks about it. Really, by now Iruka should know better than to encourage him, if he doesn't like Kakashi to arouse him in public as much as he claims. Which is definitely up for debate.

"Whatever Sensei wants," Kakashi whispers, loving the goosebumps that break out on Iruka's arms under his stroking fingers.

Iruka tugs at his shirt insistently. "I want you naked five minutes ago."

Kakashi rears back onto his knees, pulling off his shirt and tossing it away, saying, "Maa, I don't have a time-travel jutsu in my repertoire yet, beautiful." He yanks off his pants, erection weeping at the sight of Iruka kicking off his pyjamas and spreading his legs wide, reaching up for him. "You'll settle for naked _now_, though, won't you?" Kakashi's voice is on the verge of trembling. He's amazed every time, how much Iruka affects him even after three years of screwing each other. He wonders if it'll be like this twenty years from now, in the unlikely event they both survive that long.

Iruka's grasping hands grab his arms and yank him down. "Shut up," he orders, and slides his tongue between Kakashi's teeth.

They don't linger long over the necking and the frottage; at a whispered word from Iruka, Kakashi pulls away and grabs the lube out of his night table drawer. He slicks up his fingers and slides them into his partner ungently, but not roughly. Iruka breathes out a low hum, chuckling a little as Kakashi impatiently bites at his nipples and his belly, sucking on the head of his cock just enough that the pain of adding a fourth finger should be negligible.

"Kakashi," Iruka bites out, his voice a taut wire even though his body is relaxed. "Hurry up and come inside, damn it."

The desperation in the gruff command fires Kakashi's blood like nothing else. He hooks his elbows under Iruka's knees and surges forward, smoothly filling his partner in one stroke. "Mmmm, yes, Sensei."

He leans down to his partner's neck, sucking hard over the jugular as he thrusts his hips, slow and hard. It isn't long before he senses the familiar dark sea encroaching on the bed, and feels it spill onto them and surround them, sliding between them, both separating them and pulling them together.

They can manipulate this sea now, to some extent, summoning and banishing it at will, though in their lucid hours neither of them can remember how. They know, in the way one remembers inexplicably knowing something in a dream, that they can only affect it together, working for an identical end. That end is always the enhancement of sensation and experience, though the results are sometimes surprising in retrospect. Together, in this dry ocean, they have been plants, beasts, and birds; they have been evaporated and frozen; they have consumed and been consumed; they have fused and diffused. Neither has any idea what all this means or why it happens, or why these experiences only enhance their sex, instead of detracting from it or interfering. Kakashi really only knows one thing, at the moment.

"God, I _love_ fucking you, Iruka," he gasps, in a voice that sounds like the wind whipping over the surface of a pond.

Iruka's only response is to pull him deep inside, through his guts and past his stomach, between his lungs and into his heart, where Kakashi belongs.


	4. Of Missions and Memories

**A/N: **So, this chapter isn't really very fun—it's mostly a lot of information. Most of you will probably skim over it, since it's kind of dense. Anything you need to know will be reinforced later, so it's not as though you should start taking notes or something.

For a map of the world, so you can visualize what I'm describing, go to http:// www. leafninja. com/ (just remove the spaces)

Puppies and pickles to the betas, **bronzetigress, stinky_horowitz **and **venusian_eye.**

**Part 4: Of Missions and Memories**

Iruka's two weeks in ANBU 'cram school', as it's less-than-affectionately called, pass quickly in the way that a typhoon passes quickly: it seems to last forever while it's going on, but it's over before he knows it, and leaves him feeling partially destroyed.

Now, the day before he leaves for Wind Country, he sits in the briefing room in the T&I complex, waiting for the rest of his ANBU team to arrive so they can receive the latest intel and begin last-minute preparation for their mission. He's dressed in his ANBU armor, mask under his chair, arm itching where his tattoo has just been healed. He can't remember the last time he was so thoroughly grateful for a few moments of rest and quiet.

Most of the ANBU-specific training is mental. The difference between jounin and ANBU is not in jutsu or physical capability, but in a particular state of mind, a brutally hammered-in sociopathy that is an extension of the ninja code Iruka has been drilling pre-genin on for years. There is no room within it to maneuver one's own 'way of the ninja', no room for posturing, taunting and preaching--you follow the ANBU code or you die. And if somehow you don't die, your comrades will make you wish you had.

At least, that's what Iruka's new comrades—including Ibiki—constantly impress on him, as the two weeks go by. But they are not an army; their missions are such that they cannot act uniformly. They can't do things 'by the book', because there is no book. Everything they do is on a razor's edge. To hold them together, the ANBU have only their code, their trademark uniform, self-discipline and fierce loyalty to those things which have at least a slight chance of existing long enough to outlive them—mainly Konoha, Fire Country, the Hokage, concepts like the Will of Fire and, in a few cases, each other. Long-time ANBU veterans—like, for example, Kakashi or Ibiki—have devoted followers even among the new recruits. Very few operatives have strong ties outside ANBU. For most of them, Iruka finds, nothing else really exists.

ANBU is definitely not a place for someone like Naruto, Iruka thinks fondly, and Tsunade isn't fool enough to ever appoint him, no matter how strong he is or how low their numbers become. Luckily, the Jinchuuriki has never taken it into his head that the route to the seat of Hokage must go through ANBU, so he's never made noise about becoming one.

ANBU's barely suitable even for Iruka. He wouldn't have been able to survive as an ANBU even a few short years ago, he knows. But he has ice now in a core that used to only run hot, and tempered steel in a spine that used to be more brittle, like overworked iron. He has adapted some of it from his bond with his partner, part of it from very nearly losing him twice—once when Pain attacked, and later when the bijuu were released—and the rest simply from surviving the various magnificent disasters that have been Konoha's lot for the past several years.

The door to the briefing room pushes open, and Iruka is not surprised to see Sai walk in, dressed in his ANBU gear with his mask hooked on his belt. One of the things Iruka learned over the past couple of weeks is that every member of Root who fought with Tsunade against Danzou was—eventually, after extensive examination, interrogation and other testing—given a place in ANBU, as Danzou's brand of brainwashing made them particularly suitable for it. Of course, his brand of brainwashing also made most of Root unshakably loyal to him; it was only by chance that a few latched on to other things. There are only three former Roots in ANBU—only three left alive.

Sai whips out Icha Icha Tactics, slouches, shoves his unoccupied hand in his pocket, lowers his eyelids to half-mast and affects a terminally bored expression. Head facing Iruka but eyes on his book, he jerks his head up and down once in a reverse nod, raising his eyebrows slightly, and says, "Yo."

The imitation is uncanny enough to be slightly unsettling, but Iruka still bursts out laughing, almost falling off his chair.

Sai beams at him. "Was it good, Iruka-san? I've been practicing. I've read in several books that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery."

"It was...dead on," Iruka gasps, forcing his laughter to taper off. "Almost frightening, really. Like you were channeling him. Oh, thank you so much, Sai; I needed that."

"I thought that you might. I remember when I started ANBU, and...well, perhaps that is not the best parallel for me to draw, because it was not difficult for me." Sai puts his book away and takes a seat next to Iruka.

"Of course not, when you'd been through Root already," Iruka agrees.

Sai turns his smile up a few watts. "But I have read several accounts that indicate most people find induction into ANBU to be a grueling and uncomfortable process, so I hoped to cheer you up a bit."

Iruka grins at him and clasps his shoulder. "You did. Thanks."

"I have been working on imitating Naruto as well, but I am finding him significantly more difficult to emulate."

Iruka tries to imagine Sai impersonating Naruto the way he just did Kakashi, and can't quite manage it. "That doesn't surprise me at all."

"He projects an energy that I am not certain I am capable of mimicking. If I ever perfect the impersonation, I will demonstrate it for you."

"You could always just henge into him," Iruka ventures.

Sai's mouth draws down a little. "Oh, no, Iruka-san. That would eliminate most of the challenge. And Kakashi suggested that it would be better for undercover work if I could portray other characteristics when I am still myself, you see."

"Ah." The idea seems sound, but Sai takes entirely too much advice from Kakashi, in Iruka's opinion. Half the time Kakashi tells him things just for his own amusement, and Sai always seems to take his words very seriously. If Sai wasn't incapable of being humiliated—at least as far as Iruka can tell—he would insist that his partner stop trying to influence him. Probably an exercise in futility, anyway. "Makes sense, I suppose," he sighs.

"I am Hydra," Sai says.

Iruka stares at him for a moment before he realizes that Sai is giving him his ANBU name. "Er, I'm Dagon," he replies.

He's taken aback when this causes a sincere expression of astonished delight to briefly overtake Sai's austere, pale face. "Father Dagon and Mother Hydra!" Sai exclaims, motioning between them. He sounds as though he's made a profound scientific discovery. In an unprecedented show of glee, Sai clasps Iruka's hands in both of his, squeezing them and practically vibrating with happiness.

Iruka doesn't bother to try and hide his confusion. "What?" he asks, pretty sure his eyebrows are in his hairline.

"It's an obscure reference to some worthless, melodramatic pulp horror by a dead writer who was a talentless hack," Kakashi says from the doorway. His face is hidden by his Jackal mask.

Sai drops Iruka's hands and turns to glare at Kakashi. "He was not a hack; he was a genius," he insists.

Iruka purses his lips and holds his chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Worthless, melodramatic pulp by a dead, talentless hack," he murmurs, as though deep in thought. "I've heard similar descriptions of another author..." He grins inwardly as his imagination supplies him with an image of the deceased Sannin Jiraiya pulling down one of his lower eyelids and sticking his tongue out.

"Hey, until you've actually read the Icha Icha series all the way through, you have no call at all to disrespect the dead." Iruka's partner steps into the room, putting a hand protectively over his hip satchel, where whichever of his precious Icha Icha books he's currently re-reading resides. With his other hand he pulls off the porcelain face, revealing his cloth mask.

Sai's face is back to its usual blind Madonna smile. "Perhaps during our journey to Sunagakure, Iruka-san, we can all read to each other from—"

"I am not going to spend my first ANBU mission reading porn, Sai," Iruka growls.

"The next one, then!" Kakashi chimes in, sitting down. He kicks around the chair in front of him and slings his feet up onto it.

As Iruka opens his mouth to reply, Ibiki comes in like a quiet storm. Iruka shuts his mouth, and he and Sai both sit straight, at attention. Kakashi doesn't move, but his eye follows his commander like a hawk.

Ibiki stands at the podium, hands folded behind his back. "We have a problem, Ladies," he begins. "New troubles at home, in the west and south, and we've lost contact with four teams of jounin in Lightning. As if that's not enough, an ambassador from Kirigakure was assassinated on Fire Country soil two days ago, and now the Mizukage is making noise about war."

Kakashi frowns. "Water isn't much better off these days than we are, after that war with Lightning," he comments. "That would be a short conflict with no victor."

"Let the diplomats worry about that," Ibiki says coolly. "It's not our problem yet. Our problem is that the ANBU whom the ambassador's attendants have accused of the ambassador's murder was meant to accompany you to Suna, and because of our current situation there aren't any other ANBU I can send with you."

"Isn't Lynx recouping from a lung infection, Commander?" Kakashi asks. "He could catch up with us in—"

"As of tomorrow, Lynx is on his way to Kumogakure," Ibiki informs him.

Kakashi's eye widens slightly at that. Iruka guesses that Tenzou wasn't in very good shape when Kakashi last visited him in the hospital. For a second, it looks like Kakashi might say something provoking, but when he speaks it's only to ask, "What about Gazelle?"

"Already been taken off his current assignment and is heading south to the coast. I've been down the list several times, Captain; there's no one available."

Gazelle is another ANBU Iruka has come to know by codename—Shikamaru. He knows from his former job at the mission desk that Kurenai has been in Lightning Country for over a month, and wonders briefly who takes care of Kurenai and Asuma's toddler while she and Shikamaru are out of town. His heart sinks a little as he realizes that Kurenai would be one of the jounin that Konoha has lost contact with.

"You can't transfer someone from one of our back-up teams?" Sai asks.

Ibiki looks disgruntled. "You're not going to have any back-up for this mission, I'm afraid. At least, not Konoha ANBU. The Kazekage has pledged to lend you whatever aid he can spare, but with Suna at war on two fronts, I don't think you'll get much."

Iruka hadn't really formed a definite opinion about the mission to Wind, but it's beginning to sound like a very bad idea. "Do we have the option of postponing this mission, Commander Jaguar? It sounds like our forces are being spread thin enough as it is." Plus, as he knows from working the mission room, they have the dubious luxury of knowing that the teams they've sent to Wind Country to deal with this so far are dead and destroyed, as opposed to the situation in Lightning, where their people might require rescue or corpse recovery.

"Yes, they are being spread too thin, and no, we don't have the option to postpone. We can't afford to lose Sunagakure or the Kazekage to Earth Country or the insurrectionists, and even if there isn't much we can do, we have to do what we can. If the assassination attempts continue in that environment, the odds are that one of them will succeed, even on Sabaku no Gaara."

"Is it better to save the Kazekage and lose Konoha because no one was home, Commander?" Kakashi says lightly. His tone sets Iruka's teeth on edge.

Ibiki shakes his head, just slightly. "We are still well-defended, Captain. Gazelle's intel is good; we know where the major threats are, and none of them are here yet. If we've deployed correctly, none of them will ever get here. Our posts are manned—just barely, but they are—our vitals are guarded. Just because our big stars will be out of town doesn't mean no one's holding down the fort."

Even with his mask on, Kakashi's face radiates that he is thoroughly unimpressed.

"The Hokage is sending one person with you, though," Ibiki continues after a moment. "A jounin, not an ANBU, so you'll get a little warm-up for your undercover." He makes an unreadable face. "The Kazekage personally requested that he be allowed to accompany you, if he was available."

There's only one Konohan that Iruka can imagine Gaara wanting to see in a time of such turmoil. "She's sending Naruto, sir?" he asks.

"Yes. Obviously, his mission objectives will be different from yours. He'll be backing up the Kazekage's bodyguards—"

"'Backing up'?" Kakashi interjects. "'Taking over' is more likely."

"Naruto is definitely not good at remaining in the background, sir," Sai adds cheerfully.

"Whatever. Officially, he's backing them up, but he'll do whatever the hell he wants, as usual. Not my responsibility, so I don't care as long as he doesn't interfere with your mission. It should work out, since he'll be staying in Sunagakure while you head southwest to Kurocha."

Iruka frowns. "I thought the guerrilla forces were based out of Akatsuchi City, on the coast, Commander."

"Our most recent intel strongly indicates that they are being controlled by an unknown enemy in Kurocha. It also indicates that our enemy, while having no public face, does have ties with the civilian police there. He also has ties to more officially criminal elements; you'll find you have any number of places you can choose to infiltrate. Deep cover with the police is your best bet."

"What do you mean, 'officially criminal elements', Commander?" Iruka asks.

Kakashi answers him. "He means the police are just as bad as the people they're supposed to be policing, if not worse."

Ibiki nods. "Once you've cut the head off the snake, ensure it doesn't grow any more of them, and then re-emerge to Sunagakure. Make contact from there and await further orders. Here are your mission dossiers." He reaches into his trench coat and pulls out three identical files, stepping around the podium to hand them out. "Questions?"

"It looks like we're going to be dealing mostly with civilians. Our target obviously has some shinobi working under him, since the guerrillas use ninjutsu. Do we know whether the target is a shinobi?" Kakashi asks, flipping through his file.

"We do not," Ibiki admits. "And while there are a lot of shinobi in Akatsuchi City, there are almost none in Kurocha, which should have made him easy to spot, if he's a ninja. But the odds of a civilian having control of a shinobi guerrilla army are almost nonexistent, unless he has a team of formidable shinobi loyalists very close to him. The one team we sent to Kurocha was obviously killed by ninja, but it's impossible to say how many or if they even had anything to do with the war on Suna."

"If there are not many ninja in Kurocha, and our target is the powerful director of a shinobi army, then it seems doubtful that the shinobi who killed our ANBU had nothing to do with him," Sai deduces.

"I think we can safely assume a connection," Kakashi says, snapping his folder closed. "The Suna ANBU who survived that mission might be available for us to question."

"There were survivors?" Iruka asks.

"One. Just one. We'll do heavy chakra-masking," Kakashi instructs. "We don't want the target's people to find us before we find the target."

"Yes, Captain," Sai says with a sharp nod.

"Understood, Captain," Iruka says softly, trying the title out for the first time. The word feels strange in his mouth, only because it's Kakashi, but he likes its flavor.

"Well, if there isn't anything else, you're dismissed, shinobi," Ibiki says, heading toward the door. "If you need me, you know where to find me."

He and Kakashi look at Iruka and Sai, who shake their heads. Kakashi says, "No questions, Commander Jaguar."

Ibiki nods at them and slips from the room.

Kakashi stands up and stretches lazily. "I'm going to go take a look at Naruto's mission dossier," he says. "See if there's anything in it we should know about. Hydra, go and talk to Sakura and have her set you up with some poisons, and antidotes for the poisons used in that region. Get sedatives, and some sodium pentothal or scopolamine, too. The strongest truth serum she has; we can dilute it if we need to."

"Sakura is on a mission right now, sir," Sai replies.

Kakashi looks irritated for an instant before his eye curves in a smile. "Talk to whoever you have to, I don't care."

"Yes, Captain Jackal. Should I stock up on soldier pills and field medic supplies for each of us, sir?" Sai asks, standing. Iruka stands as well, bending over to touch his toes and stretch out his back.

"If you need them, get them. I have plenty."

"I could use some soldier pills," Iruka says, straightening up again.

"I will procure them for you, Father Dagon," Sai replies, and Iruka's eyebrow twitches.

"Don't call me that. I'm sure as hell not calling you 'Mother Hydra'."

"I can't promise anything," says Sai, "because now I will always think of the two of us in this way. I might slip up."

There's no way Sai would ever 'slip up' about something like this. He knows it, and he knows Iruka knows it. He's inheriting far too much of Kakashi's sense of humor, Iruka thinks exasperatedly. "Right. Just don't call me that." He turns to Kakashi. "Any orders for me, Captain?"

Kakashi looks at him for a moment, eye unreadable. "You go home, read your dossier and get some rest," he finally says. "I know Commander Jaguar finally let you sleep last night, but you look like you still have some catching up to do, Dagon." There is the tiniest hesitation before his codename, that lets Iruka know Kakashi is still not quite reconciled to this whole situation.

"Alright, sir," Iruka agrees. He might have taken umbrage that he was being ordered to bed instead of being given something productive to do, but he knows the ANBU code now. Kakashi's not fucking around, not coddling or protecting him. If his Captain says he needs to rest, then he needs to rest, and he's going to whether he likes it or not.

Sai gives Iruka a shallow bow, then gives a deeper one to Kakashi. He slips on his mask and leaves the room. Iruka stoops to snatch the mask of Dagon out from under his chair, and moves to put it on, but Kakashi grabs his wrist abruptly, stopping him. He hasn't seen Iruka wear the mask yet, Iruka realizes.

Kakashi slowly pulls his cloth mask down with one hand, still holding Iruka's wrist tightly. He leans forward and kisses him with a firm, slow, thorough grind of his lips. Iruka steps forward, pressing his body to Kakashi's, a calf sliding alongside Kakashi's leg. For a brief moment Iruka entertains the notion of taking Kakashi standing up while Kakashi leans over the podium, but he's far too tired for that. Besides, he's not sure if the door locks, and while Kakashi doesn't mind voyeurism and exhibitionism, Iruka's just not a big fan of them.

The kiss ends tenderly and softly, and Kakashi pulls away and looks at Iruka, expectation written on his face.

Iruka is about to ask him what he's waiting for, when he remembers what he was doing before Kakashi kissed him. He smiles at his partner, chest aching a little—Kakashi's going to hate this. He doesn't take his time, just hooks the mask onto his head in the swift move he's been practicing for the past two weeks, and it's done.

Kakashi stares at Iruka in a way Iruka's never seen. His face is impassive, but there's something in his eye and brow, maybe the set of his jaw, that tells Iruka Kakashi is far from pleased. There's loathing in that dark silver eye. It hurts, but it is only what Iruka expects. He hopes that all that loathing is for him, and not for Kakashi himself.

Kakashi pulls up the cloth that hides his face and then reaches for his own ANBU mask, slipping it on and hiding his eye in shadow. Iruka's shoulders relax. Dagon bows to his superior, and Jackal returns it, then silently leaves the room.

Dagon grabs his mission dossier from where he'd set it on a chair, and heads home.

A little while later, Iruka is curled up on his couch with a cup of tea, going over the mission dossier. Some of the information is surprising, but most of it he knows already. He can't help reminiscing, as Wind's circumstances remind him of the past.

A little over a year ago, the Tsuchikage invaded Bird Country and Rain Country with an enormous army of shinobi. Bird Country surrendered without a fight; the country was not prosperous enough to hire the ninja they'd need to counter a shinobi army—Iruka doesn't know of any of the smaller countries who _are_ prosperous enough, except perhaps Moon Country. In any case, there wouldn't have been time. The troops moved swiftly and silently as wind, and the capital was taken almost before anyone knew what was happening. Daimyo Toki did not want to risk her subjects in open resistance, but from what Naruto has told Iruka of her, he has no doubt she is working to sabotage the Tsuchikage's plans if she can.

Rain Country is a different story. Akatsuki's goals might have become different after Sasuke succeeded Pain as the head of the organization two years ago, but the lust for blood and power remained the same, as well as the location of their main base in Amegakure. Sasuke's hate-fueled charisma had ninja from all over flocking to his banner. The war between Akatsuki and Konoha had leveled the high buildings of Ame. Naruto had captained the assault, and his battle with his best friend was legendary. But although Naruto emerged the victor, Sasuke had wrought a terrible vengeance.

Akatsuki had moved their captured demons from their cave in River Country to an underground facility in their Ame building. Sasuke was able to escape from Naruto long enough to make his way down there. With the last of his strength, he had released all of the bijuu.

The destruction the demons wrought was the greatest devastation in history. They had completely destroyed Rain Country, almost all of Grass Country, northwest Fire Country and northern River Country. The Kazekage's forces managed to keep them out of Wind and Bird country, but his losses were heavy.

Naruto had beaten Sasuke with his own strength, and a little help from the power Itachi had bequeathed him, while Kakashi had led the battalions that took out Tobi—Kakashi refused to allow him to be referred to by any other name—but even with Naruto's Sage power, the Jinchuuriki could not contain seven bijuu. With guidance from Killer Bee, the bijuu from Lightning, he had become the complete Kyuubi while retaining his sanity and the integrity of his physical body, as Bee became Hachibi. Together, they managed to stop the rampaging bijuu from destroying the continent, and kept them busy long enough for sealing spells to be cast by a few of the strongest ninja left in the world.

Iruka is extremely thankful that Kakashi wasn't one of them. He would have volunteered, Iruka is certain, but he didn't have enough chakra after fighting for so long. He probably didn't have enough even at full strength. Huge chakra stores are not among the Copy-Nin's assets.

Iruka's also grateful that, for once, the site of disaster was not Konoha, though he feels slightly guilty for that. He wouldn't have wished that kind of destruction on anyplace.

But what he really kneels down and praises his ancestors for is that Naruto, Sasuke, Kakashi and he survived the fallout. He doesn't know how Tsunade and Sakura saved them all, and he doesn't care. He's just glad they're alive.

When Sasuke awoke after a long coma, Naruto was with him. Naruto has never told Iruka what was said in that cold hospital room, but when Sasuke emerged he was a changed man. Or rather, he seemed to have woken up from a long and horrific nightmare, as though he'd finally become the person he could have been—should have been—if he hadn't always allowed others to manipulate him. He was filled with remorse for the desolation he had wrought on four countries. Rather than face a trial where he would most likely be sentenced to death, or at least to have his Sharingan removed and his chakra sealed, he snuck out of Konoha—with help from Naruto—and went to do whatever he could to help the survivors and refugees, anyone who had nowhere to go and nothing left because of him.

Naruto told Iruka that Sasuke promised to return to Konoha when Naruto becomes Hokage. Even though he didn't promise he would stay, Naruto was satisfied with that.

Sasuke made the site of Amegakure his base of operations, and with the help of his former Hebi followers, made a place habitable enough that refugees began trickling in, their arrival staggered in groups and lone individuals. Among those were many dispossessed Grass and Rain ninja, enough that Sasuke could start accepting missions, smaller ones, in order to fund the growing colony. He named his new city Okori, genesis, to commemorate his new beginning.

When Iwagakure had invaded, Sasuke had not been prepared for an army. Like Daimyo Toki, he had not challenged the Tsuchikage openly, for fear of the lives of the people in his charge. Instead they had abandoned Okori—temporarily, Iruka is sure—and gone to ground. Now he leads his shinobi in strategic guerrilla attacks, much like the insurrectionists in Wind are doing, but he has not yet been able to drive them out of Rain. Their numbers are too great.

Naruto, of course, wanted to charge in with jutsu blazing, though the Hokage forbade it—they didn't have the numbers to send if Naruto challenged the Tsuchikage openly, which of course he would have. Naruto might have been able to handle the army as Kyuubi, but it would heap more devastation on a country that just couldn't afford it. He might have gone anyway, even by himself, but Sasuke sent him a message by snake. Iruka doesn't know what it said, but afterward Naruto stopped pressing and agreed to abide by Tsunade's wishes. When Iruka asked about it, Naruto just smiled and said Sasuke could take care of himself and his people.

Konoha has unofficially sent what few shinobi they could to aid Sasuke, though he is still officially a missing-nin. They are also the source of one of the secret supply lines that keep his people fed, clothed and doctored.

Iwagakure has not faced the various catastrophes that Konoha, Suna, Kiri and Kumo have been beset by in the past several years, and they remained fairly neutral up until the invasion. Not one of the four other great shinobi nations knew the Tsuchikage was preparing an army. Now his forces occupy Bird and Rain, and they have been launching a steady assault on Sunagakure for the past several months. The city has yet to fall, and the Iwa army is diminishing, but not faster than the shinobi of Suna. So far, most attempts to cut off Iwa's supply and communication lines have failed. Suna has lost many of theirs, but Gaara is managing to keep enough open that his people aren't starving, yet.

To make the situation worse, teams of unknown shinobi began launching guerrilla attacks on Suna's flanks soon after the Iwagakure invasion began. All of them were equipped with an odd, chakra-infused, electrical glass device that refracted light in such a way that the wearer became invisible. They became visible as soon as they made a violent move, but they could sneak invisibly, even through the desert in broad daylight. They all seemed exceptionally skilled at masking their chakra, as well, so they were virtually undetectable until they attacked.

After recovering some of the guerrilla corpses and interrogating what few prisoners they've managed to apprehend, Suna discovered that the unknown shinobi were mostly comprised of people who had ninja levels of chakra but had never pledged themselves to any village. Many of them were former Akatsuki—none from the inner circle; all of those ninja were dead, except for Sasuke and his three followers. There were few missing-nin, as far as Suna could determine. Their insurrection was based in Wind Country, the barracks in a base hidden in Akatsuchi City that had not been located yet. Most recently, it was discovered that the leader of the insurrectionists is based in Kurocha, and from all accounts, he has never left that city. How he communicates with his troops is unknown.

There doesn't seem to be any correlation between the insurrectionists and the Iwa army, beyond the possible coincidence of their attacks beginning at roughly the same time, only a few weeks between them. No evidence of communications between the two attacking forces has been uncovered, and they have not been witnessed interacting with each other, which is suspicious. The Iwa army now surrounds Suna, and yet somehow they have never been seen interacting with—or perhaps fighting—the insurrectionists, though the guerrillas would have to go among them in order to reach Suna. The invisibility seems an unlikely explanation; invisible objects still have mass and volume. The rush and bustle of a war camp is not somewhere teams of people could go sneaking around without having _someone_ bump into them or notice their passing, especially a ninja camp.

But they _have_ gotten through the Iwa army lines, and several individuals have infiltrated Suna. The guard on the towering cliffs surrounding the city has so far been impenetrable, and the slit hidden in the cliffs, the great ziggurat gate, is heavily fortified. It is thought that the insurrectionists might be getting in via Sunagakure's supply lines, but where and what those are, the dossier doesn't say—much to Iruka's annoyance. That might be helpful to know; he will ask Gaara, if he gets a chance.

The infiltrators seem to have only one purpose—the assassination of the Kazekage. They have not sent in anyone with Deidara's ability to create weapons of mass destruction, or threatened any of the citizens of Suna, or tried to assassinate Gaara's advisors and Commanders, or attempted to sabotage supply lines and communications. Though they attack patrols outside the city fairly regularly, that is thought to be more of a distraction than anything.

The shinobi of Suna are usually able to stop the infiltrators before they get to Gaara, mostly thanks to Temari, Kankurou and Baki. The enemy shinobi kill themselves before they can be captured, if possible, but the Sand nin have managed to take a few down alive. So far, the Kazekage's sand defense and attacks—formidable even without the power of Shukaku behind them—have kept him safe, the very few times the intruders have managed to reach him.

The dossier corroborates everything Commander Jaguar told them in the meeting, not that Iruka expected otherwise. Konoha sent a couple of teams to back up Sand in Akatsuchi City for a recon mission, but they were killed, Suna and Konoha alike. Suna's ANBU was able to locate and destroy the bodies, but were not able to recover any relevant information.

Suna has sent more teams to the City, and while they've been able to take out some of the attacking nin and come back alive, they haven't been able to locate the enemy's base of operations.

When Suna first got the word 'Kurocha' out of one of the captured guerrilla fighters, they sent a team to investigate immediately. The team was killed, but not before getting off a message that confirmed the suspicion that the two cities were connected somehow, even though they were hundreds of miles apart. Konoha sent one team of ANBU to Kurocha to back up Suna's, and as Jackal had mentioned, out of the two teams only one Suna ANBU survived.

Iruka wonders if Dagon, Hydra and Jackal have any chance of beating this enemy, considering how many excellent ninja have died just trying to find them.

That ANBU brought back valuable intel, enough that Gaara was able to request that Konoha change their ANBU mission status from reconnaissance to assassination. Now they at least have some idea of who their enemy is affiliated with, and are reasonably sure that it's only one target they are after.

Iruka muses on this for a while, then flips through his folder to find information about Kurocha.

Kurocha, Iruka reads, is an enormously overpopulated city that spreads around a river of the same name. There are maps and a few pictures in the dossier, and the pictures are very unsettling. There are heaps and mounds of garbage in the dark brown river, and Iruka can see people splashing around in the water as well. In a picture taken from a high building or ledge, Iruka can see an almost endless patchwork of tin roofs, shacks of corrugated steel and garbage, garbage everywhere. The inhabitants have dark, smooth skin, and they are beautiful and filthy.

Iruka feels a burn of outrage in his guts. What the hell is Gaara doing, letting squalor and poverty like this persist in his country? Godaime would never let things get that bad anywhere in Fire Country. Sandaime would have sooner cut out his eyes than allow a situation like that to develop.

He knows he's oversimplifying. Shaking his head, he reminds himself that the Kazekage has only held his office for about four years, and it's obvious that Kurocha has been in the state it's in for far, far longer than that. Not only that, but Kage usually don't concern themselves with civilian situations outside their village until they're paid to. The daimyo is in charge of the rest of the country. Konoha has been unique in that the Hokage—past and present—try to look out for all of Fire Country, not just the village, to the point where the Fire daimyo sometimes feels his toes are being stepped on. It's not always a good thing, Iruka supposes. It'll probably just get worse whenever Naruto becomes Hokage.

Iruka's not in any position to judge Gaara, but he decides that if Gaara will allow him an audience, he'll discuss the state of Kurocha with him. Just so he can find out more about what they're getting themselves into.

He picks up a couple of pictures of a Kurocha policeman, studying the outfit. It's comprised of dull, tan khakis, a short-sleeved, khaki colored shirt and dark work boots. Hanging from the officer's belt are handcuffs and a pair of tonfa, side-handled batons. There doesn't seem to be any other weaponry besides a few small canisters of pepper spray, or maybe some kind of gas—he can't quite make them out—but Iruka can spot numerous places where shuriken and kunai could be secreted.

He's really pleased that since they'll have Naruto with them on the way to Sunagakure followed by a mission into deep cover, they won't have to strut around in full ANBU kit like a troupe of cosplayers. Not that he's not proud to wear the uniform, but it would be very hot and stifling in the desert.

Iruka doesn't realize it at first when he nods off, but when he jolts awake again, smoothly and without moving a muscle, he decides it's time to follow his Captain's orders and get to bed.

He had thought he would be too anxious about his first ANBU mission to be able to sleep well, but Iruka drops off like a stone as soon as his head hits the pillow, and he stays asleep until the early morning hours.


	5. Departure and Delay

**A/N: **There's a quite a bit about Shiko—you know, Iruka's ex?—in this chapter, just to warn those of you who loathe her. She's not coming back, or anything, don't worry. And the mission is finally starting, woohoo!

**Warning: **If the phrase 'stick a needle in my eye' makes you squeamish, there's a part of this chapter you won't enjoy much. It's just a medical procedure, though.

Buttons and beer for the betas, **bronzetigress, stinky_horowitz **and **venusian_eye.**

**Part 5: Departure and Delay**

Iruka does not have a nice awakening. At three in the morning he is torn out of sleep when he senses intruders in the apartment. Kakashi isn't beside him; his side of the bed doesn't appear to have been slept in at all.

Sighing silently, Iruka creeps out of bed, kunai in hand, wondering what in the hell could possibly be going wrong now.

After about three seconds, he realizes that he can identify the chakra signatures of the intruders, and wonders why his danger sense is still firing. Then he hears a voice he recognizes, which is quickly shushed, and realizes the problem: civilians.

He lets out a very relieved breath, and puts away his knife. He and Kakashi have never had any civilians over before, and the chakra signature of a civilian is almost undetectable, like a chuunin who's chakra-masking. It's no wonder he was on alert.

Pulling on his uniform in the dark, he wonders why there are forty people in the house at three in the morning. He senses Suzume's signature, and a lot of other Academy teachers, and suddenly it makes more sense. It's probably a 'Farewell, don't die' party commemorating his leaving the Academy and his first mission as a tokubetsu jounin. This is the first chance they would have had to do it, and of course once he leaves for Suna there's no telling when he'll get back.

The bedroom light clicks on, and Kakashi peers in. "Ah, good, you're awake already."

"Of course I'm awake."

"Well, come on, then."

Iruka sighs and follows him down the hall to the living room. People are mingling and murmuring to each other, trying to be quiet, but not trying to be silent. Ninja don't get surprise parties. For one thing, it's very difficult to surprise them, especially jounin. For another, if one actually did manage to surprise them, one's cry of "Surprise!" would most likely be cut off by a kunai to the throat.

"Okay, he's up," Kakashi says, and everyone turns toward them. Iruka can't believe that so many people managed to squeeze themselves into his living room. He didn't think it was that big. When they spot Iruka, they start applauding—quietly, out of consideration for the neighbors, he supposes—and Iruka wants to roll his eyes. He hates this kind of crap.

Instead he smiles, and lets himself be pulled into the room, as everyone starts congratulating him on his promotion. The Academy teachers and a few parents, including November's, tell him how sorry they are to see him go. Some of them even seem to mean it. Suzume gives him a warm smile, which freaks him out a little.

Naruto and Sai are there as well, of course, but hardly any other jounin or ANBU. Kotetsu, also a new tokubetsu jounin, is the only one he knows outside of the field or the Academy. Izumo isn't present, so Iruka assumes he must have guard duty—he and Kotetsu are two of the Hokage's personal guard. Quite a step up from gate guard detail, Iruka thinks wryly, absently cuffing Naruto as he starts shrieking at Sai about something.

There's a lot of food piled on the coffee table and the kitchen table. It's mostly breakfast food, obviously brought over by the guests—it's in crockery he doesn't recognize, and Kakashi would never have put forth the effort to make food for that many people, especially in the middle of the night. Eventually, everyone stops fussing over Iruka and starts eating, to his relief. Iruka takes a seat on the couch between Sai and Yuuko, his ex-fiancée Shiko's mother. She's one of the few civilians there; the others are parents of his former students.

Yuuko hands him a plate of her homemade ohagi, and Iruka grins at her. "It's been a while since you made these for me, Yuuko-san," he says, taking two off the plate and passing it along to Sai, who nods at Yuuko in acknowledgement before helping himself.

"And it'll be a while before I make them for you again," Yuuko says, massaging her fingers and swollen knuckles.

"The arthritis getting worse?" Iruka inquires. He takes a bite of ohagi and chews it slowly, relishing the rich, chewy texture of the rice, and the way the almost-bitter taste of black sesame plays off the sweet bean paste.

"Oh, I don't want to start discussing my ailments, Iruka. That's for old people."

Iruka smiles. Yuuko is a short, plump, pretty woman in her fifties, but she has the joint pains of an eighty-year-old. She's also a firm believer that drawing attention to the pain makes it worse, and Iruka agrees. He changes the subject. "How did you find out about my promotion?"

"I went to see you at the Academy last week. They said you were gone, and doing jounin training." She frowns. "That must have made you quite unhappy, having to leave. You love teaching, and from all accounts you're quite good at it. It's not like there's a surplus of good teachers in the world, especially for ninjas, from what I can tell. I don't know what the Hokage's thinking."

"I was very unhappy to leave, Yuuko-san, but it really couldn't be helped. In fact, I probably should have been promoted months ago."

Yuuko nods sadly. Civilians may not be privy to the particulars of ninja affairs, but they are generally aware that there are not as many high-ranking ninja in Konoha as there used to be. "I was quite surprised when that man came to tell me about this," she says, gesturing at everyone.

'That man' would be Kakashi. Yuuko, after a year and a half and many coaxing letters from Shiko, had finally managed to forgive Iruka for breaking her daughter's heart, and resumed a friendship with him—though her father Kazuya never has, and probably never will—but the entire Tatsumaki family detests Kakashi. Except for Shiko, oddly enough.

"I'm glad he did," Iruka says sincerely. He hasn't seen Yuuko in quite a while, and he enjoys her company a lot. "Why were you looking for me at the Academy?"

"You haven't gotten Shiko's letter?"

"I haven't been home for a couple of weeks; I haven't had a chance to go through the mail."

"Oh!" Yuuko puts a hand on top of his, beaming at him. "Then I get to tell you the good news!"

"I could definitely use some good news," Iruka says, putting his other hand very gently on top of hers. Her bones stick out, giving her hand a bird-fragile feel.

"Shiko's engaged!" Yuuko laughs happily, and Iruka can see Shiko in her smile.

"That's wonderful!" Iruka exclaims, and he means it. "Is it that veterinarian she was seeing?"

Yuuko nods. "She sent us pictures, and said she'd sent them to you too. Wait 'til you see him; he's so handsome! She looks just beautiful with him. The wedding's in three months." Her expression sobers. "It would mean a lot to her if you would go, Iruka."

"Yuuko-san...I don't think that's going to be possible," Iruka says, softly. "I will if I can, but..."

"I know, I know," Yuuko sighs. "Ninja don't take vacations. It's no wonder you're all barking mad."

Iruka laughs. "I don't think Kazuya-san would be very happy if I showed up, anyway," he muses, still smiling.

"I don't give a rat's ass if he's happy or not; it's not about what he wants." Yuuko bites her lip, hesitating. "Although...I don't think you should bring that man with you, if you go. She says she wants you to, but I just don't think..." She trails off.

"Don't worry, Yuuko-san. Kakashi wouldn't go even if everyone wanted him there." Ordinarily, Kakashi would love to be in a place where people openly despise him—he finds it amusing—but he doesn't like to be reminded of Shiko at all. He doesn't like it that she and Iruka are still friends, even though it's long-distance. Every time Iruka gets a letter from her, he can count on Kakashi quietly brooding for at least a day. Iruka doesn't bother to tell him about the letters he gets while Kakashi's on a mission, and Kakashi never asks. When Iruka has a mission, he has the post hold his mail, to protect it from any 'accidental' fire jutsu.

It makes Iruka feel awfully warm and fuzzy inside that Kakashi actually sought out Shiko's mother to let her know about this ungodly early get-together. Iruka was sure that Kakashi had repressed the knowledge that Iruka and Yuuko were friends.

He chats with Yuuko for several more minutes, the conversation light, until she cites the need to go home and get some more sleep. He sees her to the door, kissing her lightly on the cheek, and ends up standing there for a half an hour as people take the opportunity of having him by the door to make their exit. When Iruka finally gets the chance to sit back down, there are only twelve people left in the room, and it feels much more comfortable.

Kotetsu hands Iruka a plate of salmon, rice, and pickled radish as he sits down next to him on the couch. "I noticed you hadn't gotten much to eat, so I saved you some food. Gotta fuel up."

Iruka hadn't even noticed how fast the food was going. Even at three in the morning, ninja eat like vacuum cleaners. There is little left on the tables. He takes the plate gratefully. "Thanks, Kotetsu."

Another hour passes in easy, relaxed conversation and leisurely feeding, before it's four-thirty and time to prepare for the mission. Iruka and Kakashi kick the stragglers out, enlisting Naruto and Sai to help them get their apartment cleaned and ready for what could be a long absence. When everything's picked up, his former students take off to get ready to meet them at the gate.

He and Kakashi would usually have packed the night before, but Iruka hasn't been awake and Kakashi, apparently, hasn't been home. They grab their packs and shove their ANBU gear into the very bottoms before piling everything else they'll need on top. They don't talk. Iruka can tell Kakashi's already in mission mode—not ANBU mode, but jounin mode. Iruka's there too, now, so it doesn't bother him. The silence as they finish preparing feels natural.

They step outside, and Kakashi sets up the wards. As Iruka steps forward to lock the door, Kakashi surprises him by stepping up behind him and slipping his arms around Iruka's waist, resting his chin on Iruka's shoulder. "I love you so much, baby," he murmurs, and Iruka knows from the way he says the endearment that his partner is troubled. "I don't want you to ever forget that, no matter what I might say or do."

Iruka finishes locking the door and turns around in Kakashi's arms, slipping his own around his partner's neck. "I won't. You'll do what you have to do, and so will I." He kisses the cloth over Kakashi's lips. "And I love you, too."

Kakashi nods, and releases him. "Let's go." He leaps up onto the roof of the building across from theirs, toward the village gate, and Iruka follows close on his heels.

It's well past sunset when Kakashi finally calls a halt to their progress, and Iruka drops gratefully down from the forest canopy. There's only a sliver of moon, and it always takes more effort to skim through the boughs in the dark by hearing and touch, especially at the breakneck pace they've been traveling. Even Guy wouldn't have been able to complain about their speed. At this rate, they'll reach Suna well ahead of schedule, unless they are held up by the Iwa army.

They're hoping to circumvent the front lines by taking an underground route, through some caves under the hot sand that are too treacherous to be used as a supply line, and too labyrinthine to navigate without aid. Kakashi has taken the route before, and Gaara has sent along a map just in case. It's unlikely Iwa is holding the passage, even assuming they could locate it. There are many such caves in the limestone under the desert, enough that randomly searching them to find out which ones might possibly lead into Sunagakure would be a huge waste of time and manpower. As long as their team isn't spotted, everything should be fine.

Iruka spends a few minutes stretching out his leg muscles before helping the others gather firewood. Sai unfurls a scroll and inks a strangely smiling bird-like creature on it, while Kakashi casts a jutsu on the fuel and tinder to make it smokeless and odorless. When the fire is going strong enough to provide light, Sai's bird leaves the scroll, its size increasing enormously, and furls its wings around their campsite. Their night-dark 'tent' is probably not necessary this far inside Fire Country's borders, but 'probably' is not good enough odds for a ninja.

After Iruka sets up some alarm traps and casts a soundproofing jutsu, they start setting up their sleeping pads, and Naruto—inevitably—starts chattering. They've been traveling too hard for conversation, almost seventeen hours with few breaks, barely stopping long enough to scarf down ration bars. The Jinchuuriki can be quiet when he needs to be, but if he doesn't need to be, he usually isn't.

"--so I don't get why you call him Iruka-san, but you don't put a suffix on Kakashi," Naruto is saying to Sai when Iruka tunes in, after they've got their sleeping pads unrolled in the grass around the firepit. "Kakashi's older and more senior, right? So—"

"You call him Iruka-sensei, but do not put a suffix on Kakashi," Sai points out reasonably.

Naruto splutters a little. "That's because Iruka's been Iruka-sensei since I was really little," he finally says. "But anyway, we're not talking about me."

Sai raises a brow. "Oh? I thought we were. You started off this conversation by saying—"

"I know what I said; I was there, okay? Jeez. What do you think, Iruka se—uh, Iruka...?" Naruto scowls in frustration. "Damn it, this is going to be harder than I thought."

Iruka remembers Kakashi mentioning something about trying to get Naruto to stop calling Iruka 'Sensei', and smiles. "You can call me Iruka-sensei," he says. "I don't mind."

"I didn't think you would," Naruto says, throwing a handful of grass in Kakashi's direction. "Kakashi's an idiot."

Without looking up from his book, Kakashi flips his middle finger at the blond.

"No, he isn't," Iruka contradicts, then reconsiders. "Well, not about this, anyway." The middle finger swerves in his direction, and he chuckles softly. "It's a little painful to be called Sensei. But it's hardly noticeable when set against all of my other concerns, like this mission. There's no point in making it an issue."

Naruto looks doubtful. "Are you sure? Because if I can drop the -sensei from Kakashi, I can drop it from Iruka. It'll just take a little time."

Iruka scoots over a little so he can reach Naruto, and punches him in the arm. "Don't worry about it. Focus on your mission."

"If you say so," grumbles Naruto, making a show of rubbing his arm. "But anyway, Sai, you never answered my question. Why do you use an honorific for Iruka and not Kakashi?"

"To be honest, I am not sure," Sai admits. "I think it started in response to Iruka-san's politeness and formality when we were first acquainted. 'Iruka-san' just seems to suit him. It is not my intention to keep you at a distance, Iruka-san," Sai says, turning to Iruka.

Iruka has his doubts about that, but smiles warmly and waves him off. "I don't mind it, Sai."

"So...no suffix suits Kakashi?" Naruto asks.

Sai screws his face up in quite a fair imitation of Naruto trying to figure something out. Probably practice for his impersonation, Iruka realizes, amused. "Hmm...what would suit Kakashi..." His eyes pop open. "Kakashi-chin."

Kakashi's book slaps closed. "Bedtime, brats. Cut the chatter and sleep. Now."

"Yes sir, Kakashi-chin, sir," Sai says, with a crisp salute, as Naruto dissolves into laughter.

Kakashi pulls on one of his colder, more frightening smiles, made that much creepier because his mask is down and they can actually see his mouth. Naruto's laughter dies in his throat. "Whoever doesn't want to wake up tomorrow with his intestines wrapped around his head like a turban should shut up and sleep. And never call me that again, Sai."

"I should not call you sir?" Sai says, and Iruka feels an uncomfortable coldness threading through his stomach. Sai hasn't quite learned how far is too far to take a joke; even Naruto has a better sense of Kakashi's limits. Iruka knows from experience that Kakashi's sense of humor takes a nosedive when on a mission, and he really doesn't want things to get ugly already. They'll get enough ugliness later.

Apparently, Kakashi agrees with that sentiment, because he drops the eerie smile and pouts at Iruka. "You see what I have to put up with? I get no respect at all."

Feeling enormously relieved, Iruka grins. "I respect certain parts of you a great deal," he says, lasciviously running his tongue along his lower lip.

It has the intended effect. "Right!" Naruto says, looking very disturbed, and scrambles to bed down on his sleeping roll. "Sleep! And you two," he says, pointing first at Iruka and then Kakashi, "better just sleep where you are. I don't need to hear you guys...doing...stuff," he finishes with a shudder.

"No stuff," Iruka promises. Even if he and Kakashi had been alone, Iruka's not a proponent of mission sex, anyway.

Sai is already down with his eyes closed, and after casting a few suspicious glances at Kakashi and Iruka, Naruto settles down as well. Iruka knows he should go to sleep—he has second watch in an hour, and after that he only gets two more hours to sleep before they're off and running again—but he's wide awake. If he lies down he'll just get more restless.

He and Kakashi stare at each other over the waning fire for a while, before Kakashi murmurs, "You know that even if you don't sleep, laying down and resting gives you some of the same benefits."

Iruka sighs. "Yes, I know."

Kakashi pats the place beside him. Iruka gets up silently and skirts the fire, sitting down next to his partner. They sit like that for a while, watching the fire, not touching or talking.

"You worried?" Kakashi eventually says.

Iruka's brows draw together as he thinks. "Not really. I'm anxious to know what we're going to be dealing with."

"Mm," Kakashi replies, nodding.

Iruka hesitates, then asks, "Are _you_ worried?"

"A little," his partner admits.

"Mm," Iruka replies.

"It won't matter when we're closer to Suna. I'll be in the zone, then."

Iruka nods. His eyelids are finally starting to droop.

He feels a feather-light kiss on his brow. "Go to bed; you've still got half an hour," Kakashi whispers.

Iruka turns his head quickly and catches Kakashi's lips with his own for a moment, then moves back to his place across the fire from his partner. He's asleep before he even finishes lying down.

By the middle of the following day, Iruka _is_ getting worried, at least about Kakashi. His partner is moving as easily as usual, but the set of his shoulders has become more and more tense as the day wears on. Iruka knows what that means.

He speeds past Naruto and Sai to catch up with Kakashi. Pulling alongside him, he murmurs, "The Sharingan?"

Kakashi nods, ducking under an overhanging limb and leaping to the next branch on all fours, like one of his ninken. Iruka notices that the fabric of his hitai-ate is darker under the Sharingan eye, a tinge of red beginning to seep onto his cheek.

"We have to stop," Iruka says firmly.

"Damn it," Kakashi mutters, and holds his hand up to signal to the others to stop and descend.

Once they're on the ground, Kakashi silently removes his hitai-ate. Blood immediately spills from the Sharingan down his cheek.

"Shit," Naruto says, and takes the headband without further comment, heading toward the stream they've been following for the past couple of hours. Sai is already laying down a folded blanket for Kakashi to lay his head on. Both of them are familiar with this routine.

Kakashi lies down with his head on the blanket as Iruka opens his medkit and grabs one of the prepared syringes he and Kakashi always keep on hand. Naruto returns with the washed hitai-ate and a damp cloth, handing the latter to Iruka, who uses it to wipe the worst of the blood from Kakashi's face so he can see what he's doing. Kakashi hisses in pain as Iruka thumbs his left eyelid open, a sure sign that he's beyond agony at this point. The three-bladed pupil of the Mangekyou Sharingan swirls lazily up at Iruka, as more blood spills down the side of Kakashi's head. Without further ado, Iruka slides the needle of the syringe into the center of the pupil and depresses the plunger.

For a few moments, nothing happens. Just as Iruka is starting to get anxious—this takes longer and longer every time they do it—the Sharingan comes to a stop, and the pupil shrinks back to the shape of three tomoe around a circle. The bleeding slows and finally stops, and Iruka allows Kakashi to close his eye. He takes the damp hitai-ate from Naruto and lays it over the eye, handing off the bloodied cloth to be washed. Sai leaps into the trees in a watch position, and Iruka settles next to Kakashi to wait.

When Kakashi fought Pain two and a half years ago, he irreparably damaged the chakra pathways connecting to his Sharingan. Tsunade was able to heal them enough that he could still use the eye in times of need, but warned him against relying on it. Under no circumstances was he to use the Mangekyou Sharingan. Not only was there the danger of the eye going completely blind, but the damaged pathways now ate up his chakra at an alarming rate, which more than tripled if the Mangekyou was activated.

For once, Kakashi heeded her advice, and didn't use the Mangekyou at all for well over a year. But when he fought Tobi in the battle at Amegakure, he saw a chance to defeat him that required it. Kakashi being Kakashi, he used the opening without hesitation, and in killing Tobi, almost killed himself.

Iruka wonders sometimes if that wasn't his intention, some kind of penance. He's never asked; he doesn't really want to know the answer.

Tsunade and Sakura were able to pull Kakashi back from the void once again, but the Sharingan began malfunctioning more frequently than before. Using it only briefly caused Kakashi immense, sickening headaches. Worse, the Mangekyou sometimes randomly activated, even when the eye was covered. Strangely enough, the Sharingan's chakra consumption became lower than it had been before Pain, so the danger of chakra burnout was not as great. This made the eye somewhat less effective, but usable if Kakashi could stand the discomfort. However, once the Mangekyou activated, Kakashi could no longer suppress it on his own.

Iruka had wanted Kakashi to get the Sharingan eye removed, but Kakashi vehemently resisted the notion. In the end, Tsunade convinced Iruka that removing the eye was their very last resort. Because of the way the Sharingan had integrated with Kakashi's body over the years he'd had it, and the way his body chemistry had adapted to the foreign influence, Tsunade felt that removing the eye might be even more dangerous to Kakashi than leaving it in. The eye's relationship with Kakashi's body appeared to be more symbiotic—as it would be for an Uchiha—than parasitic. But unlike an Uchiha, Tsunade was concerned that the removal of the Sharingan would kill Kakashi, either directly from shock or from other complications that Iruka didn't fully understand.

Kakashi'd had to stay in the hospital for months as Tsunade labored to find a way to deactivate the Mangekyou that didn't require a team of medics. She finally hit upon a formula that worked, but it had two drawbacks. One, it had to be injected directly into the eye, and two, it required Kakashi to lie on his back without moving for a minimum of two hours.

The first drawback wasn't really a hindrance for Kakashi; he could do the injection himself if he had to. The second, however, would have required Tsunade to pull him from active duty if the Mangekyou activated often enough. It happened, on average, about once a month. Often enough to be a concern, but not often enough—in their current climate, at least—for the Hokage to pull Kakashi off the field.

Even so, Tsunade would never have put Kakashi back in ANBU if special ops hadn't been in desperate need of his experience and leadership. Kakashi's re-appointment as an ANBU captain had been probationary for the first six months. In that time, the Mangekyou had only activated once while he was in the thick of a mission. Kakashi had conducted himself in such an exemplary manner that he'd been taken off probation, but the danger still lingered.

Kakashi's hands are clenching and unclenching, and Iruka can see little tremors running through his frame. Whether it's pain or restlessness, the treatment is the same—he has to be prevented from moving. "Do you need a sedative?" Iruka asks. It's pretty clear that he does, but Iruka doesn't ever shoot his partner up without at least asking.

Kakashi exhales sharply in frustration, and doesn't answer for several moments. Just when Iruka is about to get the Dilaudid and inject him whether he likes it or not, he says, "Yeah. But make sure I'm up in exactly two hours."

That means Iruka will have to give Kakashi an adrenaline shot, which he doesn't like doing, but he doesn't argue. Quite frankly, he's not any happier about having to stop for this long than Kakashi is.

As he's getting the syringe, Iruka notices Kakashi's hands forming seals in his peripheral vision. Kakashi slaps the ground next to himself, holding his torso and head carefully still. A second later, Uuhei and Pakkun are sitting next to him. Uuhei sniffs at his face, whines and paws his arm gently.

"That damn eye's going to kill you one of these days, boss," Pakkun growls.

"Don't say things like that!" Uuhei hisses. "You'll jinx him!"

"I don't doubt it, Pakkun," Kakashi replies. "And I've been jinxed since the day I was born. Set up a perimeter, you two."

Iruka leans over and scratches Uuhei behind the ears, just under her bandages. "Kakashi won't die today, at least, Uuhei-chan."

Uuhei turns her head to lick his hand, then she and Pakkun take off to start their patrol. Iruka's grateful for them; this way they can all rest a little. If they have to stop, it might as well be beneficial.

He flicks the syringe with his finger a few times and depresses the plunger a little to get out the air bubbles, then presses his fingertips on the inside of Kakashi's arm, feeling for a vein he can use. It's not hard to find one; he doesn't even have to tie off his partner's arm. Kakashi's veins are like a roadmap under Iruka's fingers, just below his milk-pale skin, winding around his scrappy muscles.

After Iruka makes the injection, he tucks away the used syringe in a compartment in his medkit, and looks around. Sai is still in the tree, perched in a squat on his toes, head slowly swiveling like a radar as he scans the surroundings with his senses and his chakra. He's probably set up a few ink sentinels as well. Naruto is standing a little distance off, looking down at the ground, frowning.

Raising a brow, Iruka stands up and walks over to the Jinchuuriki. "Everything okay, Naruto?"

The blond shakes his head. "No, it isn't. Pakkun's right; that eye is going to kill him one day. Even Sasuke is having trouble with his Sharingan, and he isn't..." He trails off.

"Well," Iruka says, turning to head back to his partner, "if you have any suggestions, I'm all ears."

Naruto trails after him, sitting next to him as he checks Kakashi's vitals. "It's not something I can do anything about," the blond says after a moment. "I hate that."

"And how do you think I feel?" Iruka says gently, not looking at him. He runs his fingers lightly down Kakashi's forearm. "Seeing this happen over and over again, wondering if Tsunade's medicine will stop working one day, and the Mangekyou will eat his chakra until he's dead. It doesn't get easier."

"I know, Iruka-sensei. But when I'm Hokage, everyone in Konoha will be my responsibility. It just...I always thought I'd know how to solve any problem by then, you know?" He sighs. "If I can't take care of the people I really care about, then—"

His sentence chokes off as Iruka slips an arm around his shoulders and yanks him into an abrupt headlock. "Idiot," Iruka says affectionately into his spiky hair. "If you're going to be a fair, just and equitable Hokage—which I _assume_ is part of your plan—you're going to have to learn not to take everything that afflicts your close friends so personally. Or are you planning on giving your friends special considerations and privileges? Because if you're going to get this mopey every time something happens to anyone in Konoha, you won't have time to do anything else."

Naruto shoves him away without rancor. "What am I supposed to do, just not care?"

"Of course you're going to care. But there's something I learned when I was overseas, about the only thing over there that was real wisdom, that applies here. I don't think I've told it to you before. Would you like to hear it?"

"As long as you don't expect me to memorize it and write an essay on it," Naruto grumbles.

Iruka snorts. "Haven't you heard? I don't teach anymore. Just listen. It's called 'The Serenity Prayer.'

"A prayer?"

"It goes, 'God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom always to know the difference'."

He waits patiently as Naruto digests this. The blond's forehead creases heavily.

"Which god is supposed to grant all this?" he asks after a moment.

Iruka rolls his eyes. "They only had one god over there. It doesn't matter about the god. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

The blond frowns. "But people have always told me there are things I can't change that I end up changing anyway. Like Neji, remember how he was always talking about fate?"

"You knew that he was wrong, didn't you? It doesn't matter what people tell you. You're good about knowing what you can change, Naruto. It's accepting what you can't that you're not so good at."

"You accept too much, Iruka-sensei," Naruto says quietly.

Iruka is taken aback for a moment. "What do you mean, Naruto?" he asks.

The blond shakes his head. "Nothing, never mind. Hey, I found an envelope from that Shiko person in your bag. It feels like it's got pictures in it. Do I finally get to see what she looks like?"

Iruka's heart stops for a second. "What were you doing going through my bag?" he snaps.

Naruto's eyes widen. "Um, I was getting a cloth for Kakashi. I forgot to pack any and you didn't like it when I used my clothes—"

"I didn't like it when you tried to use your dirty socks to clean my boyfriend's face," Iruka corrects. His heart has started again; he doesn't think Naruto got down to his ANBU gear. If he had...well, Naruto's better at hiding things than he was a few years ago, but he's not _that_ good. He'd have something to say. Iruka's not sure what, but something. "Just don't do that again, okay?"

"Is there something I'm not supposed to see?" Naruto asks suspiciously.

"Maybe there is," Iruka retorts. "Does that entitle you to violate my privacy? Especially when I'm asking you not to?"

The blond drops his eyes. "No," he says, a little sheepishly. "I'll stay out of your bag, Iruka-sensei."

"Good. Thank you."

Naruto chuckles and shakes his head. "Even though I'm almost nineteen now, all I have to do is annoy you and it's like I'm eight years old again."

"Hmph. Say that when you're in your thirties, and I'll feel accomplished."

They sit quietly for a few minutes. "Was the letter what I wasn't supposed to see?" Naruto asks finally.

Iruka looks over at him, puzzled. "Hm? I don't care about that...why would you think it was?"

"Well..." Naruto picks at the grass, not looking at him. "You said you were engaged to that Shiko while I was off with ero-sennin, right? And Kakashi doesn't like it that you still write to her..."

Iruka's mouth splits in a wide grin. "What, you think we're having a torrid affair through the mail?"

Naruto looks up at him, scowling. "Well, if you're not, then why do you still write her? I mean, when you break up with someone, you go your separate ways, don't you?"

Iruka's not about to go into the real reasons, which have to do with the way Kakashi ripped him and Shiko apart and destroyed Iruka's life. Iruka only cares that Kakashi helped him rebuild it, and that Shiko forgives them both. All Naruto knows about the entire situation is that Iruka was briefly engaged to a woman, but ended up with Kakashi. That's all he wants Naruto to know.

Iruka shrugs. "We're friends. You can't let your significant other dictate who your friends are. Besides, she's hundreds of miles away. Even if there was a chance of anything sordid going on—which there isn't—it would be impossible. I'd think you'd know by now that I'm a lot more practical than that," he chastises.

"It's because you're practical that I wonder about it," Naruto mumbles.

"Well, you don't have to wonder. I think it's great that you're looking out for Kakashi, in any case, but you don't have to worry about my fidelity. I'm not stupid enough to intentionally jeopardize what I have with Kakashi. We get quite enough jeopardy in our lives without creating more on the side."

"I'm looking out for you, too, you know," Naruto replies. "Kakashi's good for you. I didn't think he would be, but he is. I mean, you'd be good for anyone, Iruka-sensei, but...it's like Kakashi's a big piece of chocolate cake, and you're vegetables."

Iruka's eye twitches. Naruto notoriously despises vegetables. "And to think I was almost feeling complimented for a second."

Naruto scratches the back of his head, laughing uncertainly. "That didn't really come out right. All I mean is that cake isn't good for everyone, but vegetables are—according to everyone else, anyway—and cake can make you really sick if you have too much, but everyone apparently needs vegetables and..." He trails off as Iruka starts laughing in earnest. "I still don't have the hang of metaphors, do I," he says wryly.

"Not so much," Iruka admits, still chuckling. "I'm pretty sure I know what you're trying to say, though."

"At least one of us does, then."

Iruka gets up and walks over to his pack, flipping back the top and rooting around until he finds Shiko's unopened letter. He walks back over to Naruto and Kakashi, and sits down near his unconscious partner's head. "Let's see," he murmurs, slitting the letter open with a shuriken. He pulls out a thin stack of pictures, and inspects the one on top.

Shiko's glossy black hair is longer, but otherwise she looks just the same, just as pretty and vibrant as ever. She's standing in front of an azalea bush, holding hands with—to Iruka's eyes—a very plain, ordinary-looking man. No scars, no markings, no distinctive features at all, just carefully blow-dried short brown hair and a slightly pudgy face. Iruka can tell from his build that he's going to be packing on extra weight soon, if he doesn't take up a training regimen.

It occurs to him that he's evaluating the poor guy as though Shiko's going to go on missions with him, not marry him. He shakes his head. Shiko's beaming at the camera, and her veterinarian fiancé is gazing at her as though he can't believe his luck, which is as it should be. They both look happy, and Iruka supposes that's what matters.

He senses Naruto leaning in to look over his shoulder. "Is that Shiko?!" Naruto cries.

Iruka raises a brow, taking that picture off the top of the stack and handing it to the blond. "That's Shiko."

Naruto snatches the picture and stares at it like he's trying to incinerate it with his mind. "But she's so _cute,_ Sensei! She's almost as cute as Haku!"

Iruka hides his grin. It never fails to amuse him that Naruto's epitome of cute femininity was actually a boy. "What, you think she's too cute for me?"

The Jinchuuriki backhands him across the bicep. "That's not what I mean! I mean, I mean why would you dump such a cute girl to go out with a _guy_? I mean, Kakashi's great, but he's not cute _at all._"

"That depends on your definition of cute."

"Eh?" Naruto looks up from the picture to squint at him. "Isn't there only one definition?"

Iruka sighs. "Never mind. Let's just say that cuteness or lack thereof was not my primary concern."

"Neither was the fact that Kakashi's not a girl, apparently."

Iruka shakes his head, looking down at the next picture in the stack, which is of Shiko and her beau walking a handsome pair of rottweilers. "Haven't we had this discussion before?"

"Yeah, but that was before I knew you were engaged to a really hot chick."

Iruka hears a whisper-soft thump as Sai lands directly behind them. "Is that what that is? A hot chick?" he says, squatting down to look at the picture Naruto's holding.

"Yeah!" Naruto waves the picture in front of Sai's face. "Iruka-sensei gave her up to go out with a dirty old man, can you believe—ow!" Naruto yips as Iruka kicks him sharply in the shin.

Sai takes the picture and looks it over, contemplative. "I suppose she's not totally ugly."

Naruto gapes at him, then snatches the photo back. "You're so weird."

"Who is that holding her hand in the picture, Iruka-san?" Sai asks.

Reading the back of the rottweiler picture, Iruka answers, "His name is Kenji. They're engaged."

"No way!" Naruto yells. "She could do way better than that!"

"He really is nowhere near as handsome as you, Iruka-san," Sai says.

"Yeah!" Naruto agrees enthusiastically. Then he frowns. "Um...I guess."

"You two aren't really that shallow, are you?" Iruka asks.

"No," Naruto grumbles.

"Yes," Sai says, beaming, and dodges Naruto's fist.

Iruka tunes them out as they start bickering. Well, Naruto bickers, and Sai gives polite responses carefully designed to drive the Jinchuuriki up the wall. He cards through the rest of the pictures, all of Shiko and Kenji and a dizzying array of animals that he hopes don't all belong to them. Not unless Kenji's very, very wealthy and owns a lot of land. And the proper animal permits, he amends, as he flips to the last picture, which shows Kenji rolling around in the grass with a big pink rubber ball and a pair of adolescent tigers.

Iruka sighs, and takes back the first picture from an oblivious Naruto, who is now extolling the virtues of giant breasts to an obviously indifferent Sai. He adds it to the stack and puts the pictures back in the envelope. Fishing out the letter, he unfolds it and begins reading.

He notices halfway through Shiko's gushing description of the wedding plans—the two tigers are going to be ringbearers, apparently—that he's absently running a hand through Kakashi's hair, gently, as though his partner is an ailing child. He forces himself to stop. Setting the letter down, he lifts Kakashi's hitai-ate off his face, and thumbs open the lid of the Sharingan. Kakashi's sclera is still tinged red from the bleeding, but the Sharingan is still and looks normal.

Iruka lets the eye close and replaces the headband. He supposes it's lucky that this happened now, while they are still on the way to their destination. It's unlikely that this will happen again for at least three or four weeks, and if they remain lucky, they'll be finished with their assignment by then.

"Is everything alright, Iruka-san?" Sai asks. Naruto pauses mid-rant to look over at Kakashi.

"Relatively," Iruka answers, smiling at them.

Sai reaches into his hip pouch and pulls out a worn deck of cards. "Perhaps a few hands of poker will pass the time?" he suggests.

"Deal me in, I'm just going to finish this letter real quick."

"Do we have to use that deck?" Naruto complains, eyeing the cards with distaste as Sai begins dealing them out. Iruka notices with amusement that the backs of the cards feature strapping young men hanging out together in various stages of undress, with a lot of props.

Sai shrugs. "This is the only deck I have. I found it on my last mission. If you have a different deck..."

"Just deal, Sai," Naruto grumbles.

Sai beams. "I should say that to you as well, Naruto."

Iruka grins as he picks Shiko's letter up and skims through the rest of it. It's really a lovely afternoon, the pall cast by Kakashi's Sharingan notwithstanding. He knows these are likely to be the last relaxing moments they will experience for a long time, and he's determined to enjoy them as much as possible.

He brushes his knuckles gently against his knocked-out partner's cheek. Then he folds Shiko's letter and tucks it in his pocket, and scoots forward, picking up his hand of homoerotic playing cards to join in the game with his comrades.


	6. Of Mud and Reformed Sociopaths

**A/N: **Here is part six, in which Gaara finally comes into the picture. I love me some Gaara. I know this story is not real fast-paced and it's building a lot more slowly than most fanfiction, but it's got to go this way. There are horrid things in store. Now I just have to remember all the reasons why it had to go this way between the beginning and the end. *attaches jumper cables to brain*

PLEASE REVIEW. Do my little shriveled black heart some good.

Chevre cheese and apricot fondant for the betas, **bronzetigress, stinky_horowitz** and **venusian_eye**.

**Part 6**

"Are we almost out yet?" Naruto's voice is almost tremulous with anxiety.

Iruka grins broadly, squirming forward a little more. "You're not claustrophobic, are you, Naruto?" he teases.

"No way," the blond snaps, with none of his usual conviction. "At least, I didn't think I was until fifteen minutes ago."

They've been following the sub-desert cave system for the past seven hours. Progress has been much slower than Kakashi anticipated, due to a couple of unexpected cave-ins, one of which couldn't be cleared and had to be detoured around. If it wasn't for Kakashi's exceptional sense of smell, which detected the subterranean lake that marked their halfway point through the tunnels, they might have gotten lost. Their map is very sketchy on any tunnels aside from the ones they're meant to follow.

After braving a steep, slippery hundred-foot drop next to a very picturesque waterfall, squeezing through a series of tight stone formations that forced them to maneuver their bodies like corkscrews to emerge on the other side, and swimming through the bone-chilling waters of the lake—which required them to fully submerge several times as they passed through a series of natural chambers—Iruka is exhilarated. He's always loved hardcore spelunking, and has almost never been required to do it on a mission. Hell, he would do this in his spare time, if he ever had any. It's very encouraging, to be having this much fun so early on, even if he knows it can't last.

He doesn't think the others are having as good a time as he is. Kakashi is laser-focused, leaving no room for enjoyment, though Iruka thinks if they ever took a caving vacation together his partner might find this sort of thing fun. Sai could be having the time of his life, for all Iruka can tell, but he suspects the ex-Root is simply focused, like Kakashi. Naruto is definitely not enjoying himself; he doesn't like the chill dark, or the alien cathedral-strangeness of the caverns.

For the last twenty minutes or so they have been squirming on their bellies through a long tunnel. They're single-file with Kakashi in the lead, followed by Sai and Iruka, with Naruto bringing up the rear. The space around them is so tight they have to push their packs ahead of them, scrabbling through the powdery, crumbled limestone with toes, knees and elbows. Iruka's back scrapes the ceiling above almost continuously, and his arms knock against the walls beside him as he moves. All his chakra-powered headlamp shows him is his pack ahead of him, and grey stone all around. If they run across a cave-in—or, heavens forbid, enemy ninja—in this part of the system, they're really going to have difficulty. There's not even enough room for them to flip onto their backs, much less turn all the way around to go in the opposite direction.

Iruka's grin widens.

Over the sound of scraping packs and shifting bodies, he can hear the Jinchuuriki's breathing quickening, and his smile dims a bit. "Naruto, you alright?" he calls.

"Y-yeah, I'm okay," Naruto calls back shakily. "I just don't like this. You remember when you were teaching us about cave systems, and you said that eventually all caves collapse? I was just thinking about those cave-ins we ran into earlier. Maybe that means this cave system is about to collapse in on itself, and all it'll take is one—mpht! _Ow,_you bastard!"

Iruka had paused, bending his leg just enough in the confined space that he could snap it behind him, kicking Naruto's bag back at him. The blond must have been really distraught, not to stop it with his hands before it hit his face. "Dumbass," Iruka growls, squirming forward again. "Don't think about pointless things. This cave system's been here for thousands of years, and it'll be here thousands more. Unless you're planning on detonating explosives, your presence here isn't going to change that."

"I think you knocked a tooth loose, damn it," Naruto grouses.

"I would not mind detonating some explosives right now," Sai interjects. "It would liven things up a bit."

"You don't like caving, Sai?" Iruka asks, grunting as he shoves his pack through a particularly tight space, hoping he can get his shoulders through without having a collapsible skeleton. Being the broadest of the four of them, he's probably the only one who will have trouble.

"I find being in a cave too similar to being in a sensory deprivation tank, even with a source of light. The interesting formations one sometimes comes across are not enough to offset the feeling." There is a pause. "What about you, Iruka-san? Do you enjoy spelunking?"

Iruka can't answer for several seconds, as he fights to get his shoulders and chest through the tight squeeze, exhaling as much as possible to decrease his volume. He feels Naruto's bag hit his feet. Digging his feet into the ground as firmly as he can, he kicks hard and finally manages to shove himself through. He takes a deep breath. He's never been so glad he's not an Akimichi, or that humans weren't designed with an exoskeleton. "Heh, I live for this sort of thing," he pants.

No one speaks for a few seconds, then Kakashi's voice drifts back to him. "What, seriously?"

"Hell, yeah," Iruka calls.

"Since when? Why haven't you ever mentioned this before?"

"It's never come up. What, three years and you think you know all there is to know about me?"

"I was pretty sure I knew what you _lived_ for, at least." Kakashi sounds awfully cross. Iruka can't help but be amused that this bit of information has knocked his partner off his game a little.

"Hey, you never answered me, Kakashi," Naruto says. "Are we almost out of this damn tunnel?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. If I remember correctly, which I do, it opens up about ten meters in front of me. After that, it'll only take us about twenty minutes to get to the exit point under Suna, if there are no more obstructions."

Naruto mutters something that sounds like "thank fuck". Iruka would be happy to stay in these caves for hours yet, but he has to admit he's getting a little tired of inching along like a caterpillar. He'd really like to stretch out his arms, as well.

They get through the rest of the tunnel with no more conversation, and the going after that is relatively easy. They have a steep climb up to the exit point, but steps and handholds have been cut into the stone, so they don't even bother to expend chakra.

Iruka senses strong chakra signatures as they emerge into a large, dimly lit cavern, though he doesn't see anyone, so he isn't surprised when they are suddenly surrounded. They stand still, hands raised palm-out, and allow themselves to be inspected.

Just as the chakra-probing starts to feel invasive, a low, authoritative voice calls out, "Stand down." The nin back off, and an aisle opens up in the small sea of dingy sand-colored uniforms. Striding toward them, a startling slash of red in the dun of the cave, is Sabaku no Gaara.

"Gaara!" Naruto cries, stepping forward.

Kakashi bows, Iruka and Sai following suit. "You didn't have to meet us down here, Kazekage-sama."

"Nonsense," Gaara says, and reaches out to clasp Naruto's offered hand, pulling the Jinchuuriki into a brief one-armed hug. He doesn't get any cave mud on his maroon robes, even though they are all covered in it from head to foot. Iruka wonders if there's a jutsu on Gaara's clothes. "You've come all this way to assist me; it's the least I can do."

The Kazekage shakes hands with Kakashi, Sai, and Iruka, as Naruto starts regaling him with the horrors of their trip through the caves. Gaara listens patiently as he leads them out of the chamber, the ninja falling in behind them. They walk up a flight of stone steps and into a long hallway. Several ninja guards meet them there, and precede the Kazekage through the small outbuilding and into the street that leads to the Tower.

Iruka pulls the lamp off his head as they emerge, tucking it into his hip pouch. The light is a lot brighter outside, and it takes him a few seconds to clear the bright spots from his vision so he can look around. The streets are fairly deserted, except for the occasional patrol. Iruka can see spots of activity on the cliffs above, where the fighting is, and he can sense a strong barrier in place above and around them. The city doesn't look damaged; Iruka admires their defenses. It must be difficult to make a city like this defensible, surrounded by the high ground. Sunagakure's biggest defense is concealment; once they lose that, Iruka would think they'd lose any advantage. They're basically a city in a pit; if they weren't ninja, assaulting Suna would be like shooting fish in a barrel. Obviously they've learned a few tricks, since it's been months and Iwa hasn't breached the city's borders yet. Hopefully it's not just a matter of time.

Iruka's gaze eventually falls on the Kazekage, as the redhead turns to speak to Naruto, a small smile on his face. Iruka couldn't see him so well when they were underground, and Gaara's beauty almost takes his breath away. He's only seen the Kazekage from a distance before this, and briefly during the chuunin exam Konoha hosted years ago. He had not expected the disturbed child would grow up to be so physically lovely.

He can't help but notice the way Gaara's strange greenish eyes light up when he looks at Naruto, like jellyfish hovering beneath the surface of the ocean at night. He hopes that's just the light of friendship. If Gaara has stronger feelings for Naruto, Iruka is afraid he's going to end up terribly hurt. As Naruto himself put it, "I'm okay with guys doing it, as long as I'm not involved. I could never screw a guy, no matter how pretty he is."

Iruka is pretty sure Naruto was thinking of either Sasuke or Haku when he said that. Both, perhaps.

"See something you like?" Sai whispers in his ear.

Iruka realizes he's still ogling the Kazekage, and he shifts his focus to the ninja guards ahead of them. "He's eye-catching," he whispers back, shrugging a little.

"That he is. Though he seems to only have eyes for one person," Sai responds, and Iruka notices that Gaara has—perhaps subconsciously—inched closer to Naruto, who remains oblivious to his friend's interest. His arms gesticulate wildly as he expounds upon some detail of his adventures, and he accidentally smacks Gaara on the shoulder. Naruto blithely grasps Gaara's offended appendage and apologizes before continuing his story, and Gaara's smile turns up enough to actually reveal some of his teeth.

"I'm a bit worried about that, to be honest," Iruka admits. "I know Naruto says Gaara-sama's not the temperamental psychotic child he used to be, but I don't know if that means he'd handle rejection well."

"You are worried for Naruto?" Sai sounds more than a little skeptical.

Iruka snorts. "Of course not. I just don't know the Kazekage as well as I'd like. I'm hoping to be able to confer with him in the short time we're here."

"I do not think the Kazekage would allow any personal conflict to interfere with our alliance," Sai muses. "His past record indicates that he is a very pragmatic decision-maker, and objective in his policies. Even if he is rejected by Naruto, I do not think it will adversely affect Gaara-sama's relationship with Konoha."

"The Kazekage is not a spoiled child who puts himself before his people," Kakashi whispers from behind them. "I know from personal experience. There is nothing going on between him and Naruto that requires any of our attention. Perhaps you should spend less time gossiping and more time observing your surroundings."

Iruka's mildly surprised; Kakashi sounds a little peeved. He wonders what's on his partner's mind. He raises an eyebrow at Sai, who shrugs minutely. They continue on in silence.

Gaara shows them into the ground floor of the Tower, before taking apologetic leave of them to speak to one of his advisors. The Konohans are then greeted by several attendants, who take their baggage and lead them to their rooms in an adjoining building, showing them the baths along the way.

Sai and Naruto each have their own room, while Kakashi and Iruka have a suite with adjoining bedrooms. It's far more space than they need, but there is hardly an abundance of visitors vying for quarters, so Iruka decides it doesn't bear bringing up.

He starts getting undressed for the bath, eager to get rid of the cave mud that's caked all over his body, drying and leaving a crumbling trail wherever he goes. Naked, he shakes out a neatly folded dark green yukata that was laid out on the bed. After debating a moment, he decides he'll just put it on after his bath—he doesn't want to get it muddy—and grabs one of the large towels that lies next to it. He wraps it around his waist, hoping that he won't be stretching the bounds of propriety by wandering the hallway wearing only a towel. It's just until he's clean again, anyway.

He turns to Kakashi, who hasn't said a word since he chastised Iruka and Sai on the way to the Tower. Kakashi is facing away from Iruka, wearing nothing but his mask and boxer briefs, looking out of the window.

Before Iruka can open his mouth, Kakashi says, "So you like redheads, huh?"

Iruka gapes. "Is _that_ why you're in a snit?"

"I'm not in a snit," Kakashi protests.

"Sure," Iruka sighs. It's not worth arguing about. "Gaara-sama is very beautiful. You can appreciate that as well as I can, I'm sure."

"No one was appreciating that as well as you were, Iruka."

Iruka's brow creases. Something about this bickering feels...off. "Kakashi..." A thought strikes him. "Aren't you supposed to be in 'the zone', or something? Why are you picking this ridiculous argument?"

Kakashi turns to look at him, his open eye narrowed thoughtfully. He walks over to the bed and sits down on it, looking suddenly exhausted. Mud powders the duvet beneath him. Iruka sits down next to him, waiting.

"To be honest, I seem to be resisting it," Kakashi eventually admits. "Going into the zone. I don't mean to, it's just...hm." He pulls his mask off over his head, giving Iruka a puzzled smile. Dried mud flakes in the corners of his mouth."I still...I want..." He sighs, frustrated. "I hate this fucking situation. I don't want the ANBU part of our mission to start. I know you'll say I have to suck it up and do my job, and I will, but I really fucking hate this."

Iruka takes Kakashi's face in his hands and kisses him hard. He can taste the cave in Kakashi's mouth, all grit and clay. He wraps his muddy arms around Kakashi's chest, pulling him close, sucking on his dirty lips, chasing slick crumbles around Kakashi's mouth with his tongue. Kakashi is gasping and pulling at Iruka's towel by the time he draws away, he notes with satisfaction.

He stills Kakashi's hands at his waist, holding them in his own. "I know this is hard on you," he murmurs. "But I trust you. I know you'll be whatever and whoever you need to be, when you need to."

Kakashi nods grimly, pulling his hands away after giving Iruka's a gentle squeeze.

Iruka stands up and tightens his towel. "Now, come on. We really need a bath."

"In a little while," Kakashi says, flopping onto his back. "I'll catch up." He narrows a mocking eye at Iruka. "If Gaara decides to join you, you'd better not get too frisky with him."

"Too frisky? It's not like I'm going off to the baths to toss the Kazekage's salad, Kakashi," Iruka says, grinning. "No matter how pretty he is. I do actually need to clean up, and so do you, you know."

He's puzzled for a moment when Kakashi stands up and bows to the doorway behind Iruka, and then closes his eyes for a long moment when he realizes why. And here he'd been, worrying about _Naruto_ possibly causing a diplomatic incident. He turns and smiles at the expressionless Kazekage. "Kazekage-sama," he says, bowing deeply and hoping that Gaara will just ignore what he said. He's in supposedly private quarters, after all.

"Please, call me Gaara," drones the deep monotone. "I apologize for showing up unannounced; your suite door was open. I should have knocked. I have grown accustomed to being barged in upon. It has bred bad manners in me, I'm afraid."

"You're always welcome, Gaara-sama," Iruka says politely.

The Kazekage crosses his arms over his chest, face unreadable. It's remarkable how different Gaara looks, how shadowed and veiled, when Naruto is not around. "Iruka-san. About what you were saying before, when I came in."

Iruka's stomach twists. He bows deeply. "Gaara-sama, I truly, deeply—"

He feels a hand on his shoulder, tugging him up, almost surprising him. He didn't sense Gaara moving at all. He raises his head, standing cautiously, and is relieved to see amusement dancing in those fathomless sea-green eyes, a slight half-smile on the Kazekage's lips. "I am going to assume you were speaking of helping out in the kitchens. Which I will not allow. You are my guests, and will be afforded every hospitality I have to offer. Which is not much at the moment, I am afraid, times being what they are. I have only come to make certain you have all you require."

"There is no need for you to attend to us yourself, Gaara-sama," Kakashi says. "I'm sure you have more important things to do."

"I wish that I did," Gaara answers. "Since the last attempt on my life a few days ago, which was nearly successful, my siblings and advisors have become determined to cloister me away from all that is happening. They cannot, of course—the Kazekage is responsible for Suna, and does as he pleases—but I do not wish to cause them any more anxiety. They have enough to deal with, and at the moment, there is not much I can do. We are in a stalemate with the Iwa army, and all efforts to detain or eliminate the guerrillas have been fruitless. I have fought on the front lines and will again, but it is like throwing sand into the wind, until something changes. I am hopeful that we will figure something out soon."

"Will you please tell us about the recent assassination attempt, Gaara-sama?" Kakashi asks.

Gaara's face is as neutral as a good ninja's should be, but a slight tension in his frame divulges uncertainty. "We should probably discuss this at a more appropriate time," he says, his eyes raking lightly over their mostly undressed forms.

Kakashi waves away his concern. "If it's no trouble, I'd like to hear it now, unless you want to wait until Naruto is present. After all, he is the one who will be staying with you. I just don't think we'll be coordinating our timetables from here on, and I'd like a clearer picture of the situation here."

Gaara cocks his head in concession. "It won't be necessary to wait; I will tell you, although I don't know how much clearer it will make things. It was three days ago, in the middle of the night. My guards and I were coming off the front; I'd been helping to strengthen the barrier around the city—I'm sure you've noticed it." Iruka nods and Kakashi grunts an acknowledgement. "We were ambushed by a large Iwa battalion right in the middle of the sealing, so I'd been fighting for a few hours. I was chakra-drained, sweaty, filthy and starving. So when a citizen came into the street and offered us food and the use of her house to bathe and rest, it seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Even though it wasn't a secure location," Kakashi says. It doesn't sound like a reprimand, but it seems to imply that Gaara did something Kakashi wouldn't have done.

Gaara nods. "Even so. I have known this particular citizen for several years, my guards were all with me and I was on alert. We checked the food and the house very thoroughly, and it was all clean. There was no indication of any suspicious activity."

Kakashi leans forward a little. "And yet?"

"And yet," Gaara agrees. "We ate, and I availed myself of the bath, surrounded by the guards. Somehow, we were all put to sleep, the citizen included. We still have not been able to determine how, but there was no evidence of gas or any kind of poison, so it was almost certainly jutsu. However, sleep jutsu do not normally affect me unless I perform them myself—something left over from my days with Shukaku. My guards also protect themselves from such jutsu. So I do not know how the assassin was able to put us all to sleep so easily."

"You say this assassin was almost successful?" Iruka asks.

"Yes. They waited to strike until I was submerged in the water with my gourd across the room; I nearly drowned. I assume they had a more direct method of death in store for me, which might have succeeded had Temari not been looking for me. She tracked me down to the house before the assassin was able to bring their plan to fruition, and was able to save me, but was unable to wake anyone up. She was able to glimpse the assassin, but was not able to apprehend them because of her unfortunate need to attend to me." Gaara shakes his head a little, eyes dropping to the floor. "Even after transporting us to the hospital, the medics were not able to induce wakefulness in any of us. It was many hours before we regained consciousness. Very perplexing."

"Is it possible that the citizen you mentioned was helping the assassin?" Kakashi asks. "It seems odd that she would approach you in the middle of the night coming back from the front."

"Unlikely," Gaara says flatly. "Many citizens watch for me and for others who go to the front, and a city at war is a wakeful city, Kakashi-san, as I'm sure you know. Our interrogators cannot detect any connection between the citizen and the assassin. It seems she only provided a window of opportunity that the assassin would have taken advantage of no matter when or where it occurred. The assassin had been keeping tabs on me. I don't know how, just like I don't know how I was put to sleep. I wish I had a more satisfying analysis of the situation."

"With so many unknowns, it's no wonder your people are worried about you," Iruka says sympathetically. "Though it must be hard to be sheltered during a war."

"I feel quite...impotent," Gaara admits. "I want to do whatever I can to defend Sunagakure, but at the same time..." The redhead frowns. "The Sandaime was killed by Sasori. The Yondaime was killed by Orochimaru, and I was already killed once by Akatsuki. I would not have Suna leaderless again so soon. It would be demoralizing for the troops, and I...my siblings would...not take it well," Gaara finishes, eyes growing distant. "They care deeply for me. It is difficult to believe, but I can't deny the evidence of my experience."

Iruka fidgets with his towel a little, not sure what he should say to that. He supposes he should be glad he's getting his wish to know Gaara a little better, but he really wishes he had some pants on.

Kakashi seems a bit more at ease, standing up and walking over to Gaara, clasping his shoulder. Neither he nor Gaara seem put off or discomfited by the lack of clothing. It makes Iruka wonder if bare skin outside of a bath house is more acceptable in Suna than it is in Konoha.

"Suna will not lose you, if Konoha has anything to say about it," Kakashi says.

Gaara lips incline a fraction. "I'm happy that you are all here. I should let you clean up; mucking through those caves is dirty business. There will be a briefing in the auxiliary complex in two hours. Will that be enough time for you to refresh yourselves?"

"Plenty of time," Iruka says, and Kakashi nods.

"Good. An attendant will be within hailing distance of you at all times, should you require anything." The Kazekage makes a face Iruka can't quite read. "There is also a small guard assigned to all of you. It is not that we believe you need protecting, or that we need protection from you; it is just standard procedure in times of war that we have a guard on any foreign shinobi. Our manpower has not yet become so depleted that the council feels it can disregard this precaution."

"It's fine, Gaara-sama," Kakashi says, and the slightest tension leaves the corners of the Kazekage's eyes. Gaara was obviously worried that they would be offended. There is an unwritten rule among hidden villages that one does not put a guard on visiting allies, as a matter of courtesy, but in a situation like this Iruka doesn't think it applies.

"I'll take my leave, then," Gaara says, and Iruka and Kakashi bow as the Kazekage gives a small nod and walks back through the suite. Iruka sees his personal guard encircle him as he reaches the door.

"He's certainly been schooled in decorum since his Shukaku days," Iruka muses as one of the guards shuts the suite door.

"You don't know the half of it," Kakashi says. "He used to only talk about killing, before Naruto got a hold of him."

Iruka smiles broadly. "Naruto has such a profound effect on sociopaths."

"So do you. I mean, look at me. I used to be a real ninja, and now I'm as fluffy as a baby bunny."

"A self-centered bunny that eats kittens, maybe," Iruka replies, snorting. He tries to dart out of the way as Kakashi grabs a towel and snaps it at him, but he doesn't dodge fast enough and gets a light welt on his side.

Kakashi slings the towel over his shoulder, smiling. "Kitten is a viable source of protein, in a pinch. Come on, let's go get wet, baby."

Iruka shakes his head at the innuendo, and follows his partner out of the suite.

***


	7. Dissociation is a Virtue

**A/N: **While this is not a crossover, I have brought some characters in from another anime. Those of you familiar with the anime will spot them easily; those of you who aren't, it shouldn't matter. You should be able to meet them easily without having any background on them at all. They're Narutoverse-integrated. Yes, I am a cheater who borrows other characters rather than writing OCs—actually I would have written originals, I just missed writing these guys, and saw a chance to use them. I used to write exclusively in the Weiss Kreuz universe, back in the day. A preposterous show with very interesting characters that made for some incredible fanfiction. But I digress.

You might find Gaara a bit OOC in this chapter; I do have my reasons for it, which may or may not be explained to your satisfaction. I'm not just making him do things for my own twisted enjoyment, I promise.

...Maybe a little.

Ice cream trucks and candied ginger for the betas, **bronze_tigress, chibi-zoe **and **skatervalentine.**

**Part 7: Dissociation is a Virtue**

After a bath and a light meal of papadum, pita and baba ghanouj, Iruka and Kakashi join Sai and allow their attendants to lead them to their briefing. Kakashi has slowly become Jackal over the course of the last couple of hours, losing all playfulness and uncertainty. In fact, his partner has cordoned off as much of his personality as he can. Kakashi calls it becoming _tabula rasa_ for the mission. The ex-members of Root are perhaps best at it, Iruka muses, his eyes lingering on Hydra's vacant, doll-like expression. But Jackal has had years to perfect the technique. Even with all of his idiosyncrasies and instabilities, he can become a blank enough slate that Danzou wouldn't have been able to find fault with him.

Iruka can school his face perfectly, but he can't quite achieve as much distance as he would like. He still feels too much, his life experience less a garden to harvest from than a field of grasping hands, trying to pull him into the emotions that surround it. How he can cut himself off from that and yet remain a high-functioning shinobi is a puzzle that he hasn't been able to work out yet. It is something all ANBU must deal with on their own. It hasn't always been so—there was reprogramming, of course, and various other extreme techniques were implemented over the years—but since the Sandaime decided that the risks of such experiments outweighed the benefits to the operatives, the conditioning the ANBU undergo now is minimal. Iruka doesn't know if that's a good thing or not.

"Naruto is occupied?" Jackal asks, pulling Iruka from his thoughts.

"He is touring Suna's defenses with his guards, Captain," Hydra responds.

Jackal grunts in acknowledgement as their attendants come to a halt in front of a pair of ornate double doors, ushering them inside.

The room is high-ceilinged and oblong, much plainer and more functional than Iruka would have guessed from the entranceway. There are several file cabinets against the walls and a small kitchenette in one corner, but the main feature of the room is a rectangular conference table. It could easily seat twenty people, but there are only six sitting at the end—the Kazekage, his advisor Baki on his right, his brother Kankurou on his left, and three people Iruka hasn't seen before next to Kankurou. Baki has half of his face shielded as usual, and Iruka is glad to see that—though he's resplendent in his purple and white Kabuki make-up—Kankurou has refrained from wearing his cat suit to the meeting.

Gaara half-rises and gestures to the three seats opposite the unknowns. "Please sit."

They do, and Iruka takes a moment to glance at the men across from them. They are each quite striking. Across from Hydra is a boy with midnight blue eyes and dark brown hair, high cheekbones and a cold, austere expression. He looks younger than Naruto. Across from himself is a tall man with brassy orange hair, cut severely short except for long bangs that hang down to his chin. His eyes are startlingly blue, his features are sharp and pixie-like, and he seems to have a smirk permanently etched across his face. Across from Kakashi sits a man who gives Iruka a very uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

The man has pure white hair, chopped short and uneven, most likely with a knife. His skin is almost as white as his hair. His face is beautiful, almost angelic—or at least it would be, if it wasn't so heavily scarred. His arms are bare but his biceps and wrists are bandaged. Iruka can see scars peeking from underneath the wraps, and after studying the patterns on the pale skin for a while he realizes that many of the wounds on the man's face and body are most likely self-inflicted. There is a patch over the man's left eye, and the remaining eye is bright yellow, penetrating and intelligent. There is madness in it, but Iruka can't tell how much or what kind. Madness can be advantageous to a shinobi, if it is the right kind, and under the right kind of control.

"I believe you know Baki and Kankurou," Gaara begins. "The three sitting across from you are the ANBU who will be accompanying you to Kurocha."

Jackal's eye narrows, but he says nothing.

"First is Prodigy," continues the Kazekage, and the young brunet nods curtly. "You will call him Nagi. He has a bloodline limit of telekinesis."

"Handy," Hydra comments.

"Next is Guilty. You will call him Schuldig."

"Schuldig?" Jackal says skeptically. "That name is really going to stand out. If we're going to be undercover--"

"There's nothing wrong with Masaharu," the redhead says. His voice is nasal and brash, but not grating.

Jackal looks at him. "Masaharu's fine," he says slowly.

"Who's Masaharu?" Schuldig asks.

"Schuldig," Gaara snaps.

Schuldig sighs. "Fine, fine. It was just a demonstration, yeah? The Captain here is supposed to be brilliant; he can figure it out." The redhead has an accent Iruka's never heard before. He wonders where Schuldig is from; he's obviously not from Suna, and probably not from anywhere in Wind Country. Even more, Iruka wonders how Schuldig became ANBU. It's exceedingly rare for a foreign shinobi to be accepted into special ops, no matter which country.

Gaara's fathomless eyes narrow. "Explain it clearly. Now."

Schuldig is unfazed by the warning in the Kazekage's tone. He shrugs. "I say Schuldig, but I make you hear something else. Masaharu, for instance. It also works this way," he continues, and suddenly Iruka is looking at three men with the dark cinnamon skin and lustrous black eyes of the people of Kurocha. "I can make you see what I want you to see, hear what I want you to hear, smell what I want you to smell—you get the idea. Better than genjutsu; it takes no seals or incantations, and you can't dispel it or avoid it." Iruka blinks, and they are back to normal. "Not hard to understand, yes?"

Jackal has raised his hitai-ate, and is looking hard at the Kazekage, who gazes back evenly. "I know what you are thinking," Gaara says, "but his jutsu don't work on me. I can guess what he is doing, but I can't see or hear it. He cannot manipulate me because of the way Shukaku altered my brain chemistry. You will not be able to trust your Sharingan to see through the illusions because they affect the brain, not the eye. Captain, please put your trust in me, if not in him. I would not send you off with someone who would deceive you unnecessarily."

"I'll happily deceive you necessarily," Schuldig chirps. "I'm too useful for you to leave behind, anyway."

"I don't see how," Jackal says coldly. Iruka can imagine how displeased he must be, having to trust someone who can fool his Sharingan.

"Schuldig can establish a link between your minds, so that you can all contact each other telepathically," Gaara explains. "As long as you stay within about twenty-five miles of him, that is. That's the edge of his range."

"'Telepathically'. You can read minds?" Jackal asks.

Iruka's stomach jolts. He doesn't want to be anywhere near a true telepath; he even gets slightly nervous around the Yamanaka clan. His mind has been screwed with more than enough for one lifetime.

"In my youth, yes," Schuldig says wistfully. "I used to be able to swim through minds like a little fish, darting here and there--"

"Like a shark," says the yellow-eyed man. His voice is soft and gravelly, quite pleasant.

"Ja, okay, like a shark. I could rip you apart and put you back together however I wanted. But that part of my brain got overloaded and shorted out years ago. Now I can hear you if you send your thoughts to me, and I can send to you, but I can't read anything you don't send me. I also can't alter your memories or thoughts, except externally, as I demonstrated before." The redhead pauses for a minute and then laughs. "Yes, I heard you, Captain Jackal. No need to be so catty." Schuldig laughs again, looking at Iruka. "He must be a handful, yes, Dagon?"

Iruka's not sure what he should say to that, so he just raises a brow.

::How does it work, that your captain is your lover?:: Iruka hears. It is very startling, hearing someone else's voice in his mind, but he manages not to jump. ::Isn't that terribly complicated?::

For a moment, Iruka thinks Schuldig must really be able to read minds. But he and Kakashi have never hid their relationship—not even to deter enemies—and Suna's intel is good. There's no reason these ANBU wouldn't know. Iruka doesn't answer the redhead, just crosses his arms and stares blankly.

"We are supposed to be going deep undercover," Jackal is saying. "We can't risk using chakra like that, Kazekage-sama."

"Can you sense me using any chakra, Captain?" Schuldig says.

"I can't," Jackal admits. "But the risk of--"

"Please," Gaara says, holding up a hand. "Let me introduce you to Berserker." He indicates the pale, scarred man, who grins ferally. "You will call him Jei. He acts as a chakra mask; anyone using chakra within twenty yards of him is completely undetectable. As long as Schuldig is with him, you can stay in contact indefinitely."

"If we all have to stay within twenty yards of Jei, that will severely limit our investigation," Hydra says.

"No, just Schuldig," Gaara corrects. "It doesn't cost you any chakra to send thoughts to him, or to each other once he's established the team link. You do have to stay within his twenty-five mile range, but Kurocha, for all its inhabitants, is actually a very compact city, slums notwithstanding. Starting in the downtown area and branching out as necessary should give you all the coverage you need."

"I advise that you divide into three teams of two, and infiltrate different organizations," Baki adds. "Schuldig and Jei will have to be one team, but they work very well together."

"Like tuna and peanut butter," mutters Jei.

"Quit calling me tuna," Schuldig says.

Jackal is looking more and more displeased. "They are very unprofessional for ANBU."

"Don't let them fool you, Captain," Kankurou warns. "They can afford to act like that because of Schuldig's jutsu. But they can be counted on, and trusted—at least, as far as the mission goes."

"You have my word on that," adds Gaara.

"Then I'm satisfied," says Jackal.

Schuldig grins. "Now that we're all in love, let's talk about how we're going to work this operation, yeah?"

"Dagon and I are going to infiltrate the police," Jackal informs him. "Hydra, you've researched a different area, haven't you?"

Hydra's face is completely neutral, but Iruka imagines his eyes twinkle just a little. "Yes, Captain. After researching the area of Kurocha where I calculate it is most likely that our target resides, I have decided that the most strategic position for me would be in exotic dancing."

Iruka feels like slapping his forehead. "Stripping? Is that really necessary, Hydra?"

"It is not stripping, Dagon. In Kurocha, exotic dancing is just that. The dancers' skins are painted, they are dressed elaborately, and they perform fully clothed, mostly for private functions. The higher class of dancers, which I will be joining, is also forbidden from engaging in sexual relations with clients, except in very specific circumstances. I shall endeavor to protect my virtue."

"I don't see how being thus employed would put you in a situation advantageous to our mission," Iruka argues.

"Well, the majority of clients for both male and female dancers are wealthy middle-aged men. The profile we have come up with for our target indicates it is extremely likely that he frequents the sort of establishments that would employ me."

"It's good that Nagi will be your partner, then," Schuldig says, leaning back in his chair. "Fat old men love you, don't they, Prodigy?"

Without looking over, Nagi flicks two of his fingers, and Schuldig's head jerks hard to the side, like he's been kicked.

"Ow. You're such a little bitch," Schuldig gripes.

"Pot, kettle," Jei says.

"Any further objections?" Hydra asks, and mouths 'Father Dagon' at Iruka.

Scowling internally, Iruka answers, "No."

"Shall I assign an organization for the two of you?" Jackal asks Schuldig and Jei.

"We don't need an assignment," Jei says, proving he can speak in complete sentences. He also has an accent Iruka can't place, different from Schuldig's. "We can move around easy, and we don't have to build up trust or confidence to get information. It would be better if we aren't fettered to one area. That way, if we get new intel that sends us in a different direction, we don't have to extricate ourselves."

Jackal considers this, and nods. "Very well."

"Oh, good," Schuldig says. "You know how I hate fetters. Outside of bed, anyway." He grunts as Jei elbows him in the side. "What was that for?!"

Jei shrugs. "It was time."

A vein is beginning to stand out on Baki's forehead. Iruka thinks he, Schuldig, and perhaps Jei must butt heads a lot; from what he knows of Baki, the man is very disciplined and military-minded.

"You two are reflecting poorly on our Kazekage," Nagi murmurs. His voice is as deep and frosty as his eyes.

Schuldig rises up and bows to Gaara instantly, but something in the sudden way he stands and the slight flourish in his bow makes Iruka think he's being sarcastic. Iruka thinks the sarcasm is directed at Nagi, but he can't be sure.

"Forgive us, Kazekage-sama," Schuldig says, and Jei nods deferentially at Gaara.

Gaara just sighs and motions Schuldig to take his seat. "Hopefully you will not have occasion to become as used to them as I have, Captain," he says.

Jackal seems to have written the Suna ANBU off for the moment. "Gaara-sama, might I be given clearance to read the latest reports of your ANBU, the ones who went on missions to Akatsuchi City and Kurocha?"

"Of course," Gaara says, eyes flicking to Baki, who nods curtly. "You may also interview Dusted, if you like. She is the ANBU who survived the last mission. I am afraid she does not have much helpful information, but perhaps you may glean something that we have missed." His tone is matter-of-fact; he doesn't sound like he thinks there's no way he or any of his men could have missed something. Iruka supposes that it could be inferred that the Kazekage lacks confidence in himself or his shinobi, but thinks that it's rather an indicator of the measure of respect Gaara has for Jackal's analytical skills. He feels a small flare of pride swell in his chest that he quickly stifles.

"Have you been in touch with the Tsuchikage since the Iwa invasion?" Jackal asks.

Kankurou answers him, a frown curving the lines painted on his face. "We haven't been able to get a message anywhere near him. I was supposed to be the ambassador to Earth Country in the beginning, before the invasion reached the borders of Wind, but his Generals forced us to retreat before we got through Bird Country. He hasn't made any demands or overtures; he just seems to want to crush Suna without even a single discussion. Which is fine by me; he can bring it on, the bastard. I'll--"

"Kankurou," Gaara warns. "Enough."

Kankurou sighs, then smiles sweetly at his little brother. "My bad."

The puppet master seems an odd choice for a diplomat, but Iruka has known odder ones.

"What about the Earth daimyo?" Jackal continues. "Does the Tsuchikage have his support?"

"We don't know," growls Baki. "He's sent no word—not that we've been able to receive, anyway. For all we know, the daimyo is hostage to the Tsuchikage. But until we can get some better intelligence, we are assuming that the Tsuchikage is backed by his daimyo."

"Safer that way," Schuldig pipes in.

Jackal nods, looking pensive. "And you still have no indication that the Iwa army and the insurrectionists are working together."

"We have not been able to link them through anything other than the coincidence of the time frame in which their assaults began," Gaara affirms.

Jackal shakes his head. "That's not telling. It could be an unrelated group who's been waiting for your defenses to be compromised, and struck when the opportunity arose."

"We also surmised that," says Baki. "But we have nothing else. It would be folly to assume that they are unrelated--"

"--just as it would be folly to assume the daimyo does not support the Tsuchikage," Jackal finishes. "Better to assume conspiracy and be prepared for it."

Baki gives a satisfied nod, as if Jackal has passed some sort of a test. Iruka is not sure what that means, since he knows Jackal and Baki have worked together in the past. Perhaps it means nothing, but Iruka also doesn't like to be unprepared.

"If you have no more to offer on the insurrectionists and Kurocha at this time," Jackal says, "I would like to get started reading the files now. We should leave Suna as soon as possible; tomorrow evening at the latest."

"Of course," says Gaara, "if there is nothing further." After a second or two of silence, he stands up, indicating to everyone that they are dismissed.

Nagi walks smartly out of the room, as if he is being graded on his stride. Schuldig winks at Hydra and smiles at Iruka; they both stare flatly back. The redhead snickers and whispers something to Jei, who walks past him, impassive except for a tiny flick of his hand, reaching up to tug Schuldig's bangs, that Iruka almost misses. Kankurou and Baki exit the room while speaking in low, urgent voices, and it occurs to Iruka that he doesn't know their ANBU names. He doesn't even know if they _have_ ANBU names. Jackal and Hydra follow them, presumably for access to the files, and Iruka feels a flash of anxiety. He's not sure what he's supposed to do right now.

Deciding that he should take Hydra's lead and follow Jackal, he turns to the door, but Gaara rests a light hand on his arm. "Dagon."

"Yes, Kazekage-sama?"

"I should like to speak with you later--"

"Of course, Kazekage-sama," Iruka says quickly.

"--not in an official capacity," Gaara finishes. "I will be bathing in my private chambers after dinner, and I would be pleased if you would join me."

For a moment, Iruka thinks Gaara is coming on to him. The next moment that thought is so absurd that he can hardly keep in a snort of laughter. "I would be happy to wait until after you have refreshed yourself."

Gaara raises his eyes to a distant point over Iruka's shoulder. "A Konoha ANBU once said to me that the best way for men to bond was to be naked in a bath," he says, shifting his eyes back to Iruka's. "I have found that to be true. We have not worked together before, Dagon; we have no bond except through our association with others. I wish for that to change, but you will not be here very long."

Iruka can't suppress a smile; he knows which Konoha ANBU it was that told Gaara that. Naruto has remarked on Lynx's naked-men-edict often enough. "Then I'll be very pleased to join you, Kazekage-sama."

Gaara doesn't return the smile, just nods and sits again. After waiting a second to make sure that's all Gaara wants, Iruka bows and leaves.

To his surprise, Schuldig is waiting for him when he emerges into the hallway.

::May I give you some advice, Delphin?:: Schuldig's voice sprouts in his mind like a brain-louse; Iruka wants to scratch him out.

Staring at him, Iruka says, "_Delphin_? What advice? Don't do that." He realizes he sounds flustered and successfully fights a blush.

"Ch'," Schuldig says, folding his arms and rolling his eyes. ::First of all,:: the redhead sends, ::when I talk to you like this, answer me the same way, yeah? You'll have to get used to it. Unless it's part of your cover that you talk to the voices in your head. From what I know of the Kurocha police, you won't be able to keep your head above water with that, Delphin.::

Absently curling a hand into a loose fist, Iruka concentrates. ::Stop calling me that,:: he thinks at Schuldig. He doesn't know if he's thinking hard enough, or...pushing his thoughts in the right direction. He wonders how all this works.

::Now you're thinking more at me than you mean to,:: Schuldig replies. Iruka wonders how he's managing to convey all the nuances that would be in his voice. ::You don't need to know how it works, just how to communicate. And that part's easy. Too easy for you, really. I tend to pick up things that are put out there for anyone, not just me, only I'm generally the only telepath around, thank the gods. You won't even realize you're doing it, and I probably won't tell you unless it amuses me, Delphin. Just remember that I can't go into your head, and try not to send me too much that you don't want me to know, and you might not humiliate yourself, okay?::

Iruka leans stiffly against the wall next to Schuldig. It must look odd, two men standing close enough for intimate conversation, but just staring at each other or staring into space. ::I said, don't call me that,:: he reiterates.

::You don't even know what it means,:: Schuldig protests.

::No nicknames. I've known you for ten minutes.::

Schuldig's eyes roll again. Iruka gets the feeling those blue eyes get quite a workout, with all the morons like Iruka that Schuldig must seem to encounter at every turn. ::It's not a nickname, but whatever. It's better than 'Dagon'.::

::A matter of opinion.:: Iruka feels like he's starting to get the hang of this. He's a little worried now, though, about thinking too 'loudly' around the redhead. He decides he doesn't like telepathy at all. ::You had unsolicited advice?::

::You are obviously new to ANBU. You come across as new.::

Iruka sighs internally. He'd sort of expected something like this. ::I _am_ new. I probably won't figure out how to come across as a seasoned ANBU until I am one. So--::

::Thus the advice I wanted to give you, to help you become a seasoned ANBU. I'm not used to working with a greenhorn, yeah? So whatever I can do to knock that green off you, I'll do it.::

Iruka's brow rises. ::What's your advice, then?::

::Quit thinking of yourself as Iruka when you're supposed to be Dagon.::

Turning sharply towards Schuldig, Iruka glares. ::You said you didn't know what I was thinking, how could you--::

Schuldig spreads his hands. ::Hey, hey, settle down. I know I mentioned before that I used to be able to go inside people's heads. For years, I could do that, and I did it at almost every opportunity. When you get to see that much of people's minds, you learn to know shit about them even without reading them. I can tell that you think of Kakashi as Jackal and Sai as Hydra when you're playing ANBU, but you still think of yourself as Iruka. It'll hold you back.::

"You're one to talk," Iruka says aloud, a little jarred by the analysis.

"You don't know who I am to begin with," Schuldig says, shrugging. "This could be my ANBU mask, for all you know. Your partners, they wear their masks without having to put them on, yeah? You should learn to do that."

Iruka can't deny the merit of that suggestion. "I know," he murmurs. "You're right."

"Of course I am," Schuldig says cheerfully. ::Jackal will make sure you get it right,:: he continues silently. ::He's a perfectionist, and I'm sure that extends to you, Delph—Dagon.::

Iruka's sure that slip is intentional, but he ignores it. ::You've worked with him before?::

::No, but I can read him. The way _you_ would read someone, I mean. He's worlds harder to read than you, though.::

Iruka tries to refrain from sighing. ::Well, thanks for the advice, Schuldig.::

Schuldig grins. ::Call me Schu. Tell me, what is Vogelscheuche like in bed? Do you ever have threesomes?::

::Vog...what? What are these words you keep coming up with? Are they from your native language?::

::You've got it. I just call you what your names are in my language. Not nicknames.::

Iruka cocks his head. "Where are you from?" he asks aloud.

"Nowhere important," Schuldig answers blithely. Then, quieter, "Nowhere that still exists."

Iruka nods. He can accept that as an explanation. "I'm going to find Captain Jackal. I'll see you later; thanks again." He begins walking away, but then pauses. ::You can call me Delphin if you want,:: he sends, ::just not out loud.::

::What a privilege, Delphin-sama!::

Iruka smirks, shakes his head, and walks purposefully down the hall toward the sound of Jackal's voice.

The attendant smiles vacantly as she leaves Iruka at the door to the Kazekage's private changing room. Iruka enters a little nervously. He knows he shouldn't be; this is just a bath, after all. He's been in a mixed bath with the Hokage before, which should have been intimidating enough to make this seem like a piece of cake. The memory of trying to have a conversation with Tsunade while not staring at her giant breasts, which she purposely kept above the waterline at all times, is one that still makes him squirm.

He strips off and showers quickly, going over in his head the things he's hoping to talk with Gaara about. The state of Kurocha is first on his list, but he doesn't know if the Kazekage will be receptive to conversing about something related to the mission. This is not an official meeting, after all.

Iruka hesitates as he approaches the door to the bath, wondering if he should put on a towel. Propriety, in that respect at least, seems to be less important here in Suna, and he doubts that Gaara would be embarrassed or feel shown up by anything Iruka has to show him. He decides he's being overly cautious, and knocks softly before entering the bath.

The bath looks more like an outdoor onsen than a simple bathing chamber. The walls and ceiling are brass-gilded glass, and the bath itself is shaped irregularly, lined with smooth, natural rock and surrounded by lush hothouse foliage. It looks like it could fit twenty people with room to spare. The water is slightly cloudy, smells of minerals, and moves in a way that simulates a spring. The entire room is lit softly but thoroughly, in a way that still allows the sky to be clearly visible, with fixtures that are hidden in the plants. Being Kazekage obviously has its privileges.

Gaara is reclining on the far side of the bath, a cloth over his face. He doesn't appear to be aware of Iruka's entrance, but Iruka knows better.

"Good evening, Gaara-sama," Iruka says softly as he approaches, sitting down near the redhead with a pleased sigh.

Gaara lifts his hands and scrubs the cloth across his face, discarding it on the rock behind him. "I'm glad you could join me, Iruka-san."

"Of course. This is a very beautiful bath."

Gaara looks up at the ceiling, where the stars can be seen twinkling crisply in the clear desert sky. "It's more luxury than I need."

Iruka raises a brow. "No one needs luxury, Gaara-sama. That's why it's called luxury."

He's startled by Gaara's soft laughter. "I agree with you, but there are those who believe luxury is a necessity of the powerful. The Wind daimyo, for example, who commissioned this bath when the Sandaime led Suna. My people also seem to be of the opinion that the Kazekage should be afforded privileges that common shinobi do not enjoy. I do not see the reason for that, but it is very difficult to argue with them." He shrugs. "Temari and Kankurou often relax here, and have implored me not to alter the room, so that is enough reason for me to keep it around."

It impresses Iruka how much Gaara cares about his siblings. "I have heard, Gaara-sama," Iruka ventures slowly, "it used to be that you didn't even consider Temari and Kankurou to be your siblings, or have any familial feeling for them at all." He feels odd opening the door to discuss Gaara's past, but the Kazekage did want to bond with him, after all.

If Gaara feels Iruka is pushing into unwelcome territory, it doesn't show. "That is true. I made certain that they knew exactly where they stood with me, which was just about where everybody in the world stood with me: lives to be extinguished at my whim. Now I see the world differently, and my siblings as well."

Iruka feels awed. "And Naruto was responsible for this change?"

"Naruto was the turning point, yes. Rock Lee and his teacher Guy, also. Many have influenced me since that chuunin exam, but I will always think of Naruto and Lee as the pivotal characters in the story of my life." Gaara runs his fingers through his wet hair, sticking it up in spikes. "Naruto and Chiyo raising me from the dead after I lost Shukaku almost pales in comparison. I often wonder what I would have been like if I had never met Naruto, after having Shukaku taken from me. Still having been raised from the dead, of course."

Iruka sweeps his arms in the swirling water. "What do you surmise?"

Gaara's eyes drift heavenward again. "I think I would have been lost," he says simply. "I might have ended up taking my own life. The demon defined who I was; without that, I would have felt I had no place. The best thing Naruto gave me was my own identity, I think. My own thoughts."

Iruka nods, his eyes roaming over Gaara's thoughtful visage.

"Naruto is very important to you as well," Gaara says after a moment.

It's not really a question, but Iruka gets the sense that he's supposed to answer. "I have always admired him. Even when he was little, and didn't understand why every adult in the village seemed to hate him, he was spirited to the point of blindness and sheer stupidity. He was always going to prove himself no matter what, even if his own abilities were abysmal, and it seemed to him that everyone was against him, including me. Then I took a giant shuriken in the back for him, and we've looked out for each other ever since."

"He considers you his family."

Iruka nods. "He's my misfit little brother."

Gaara's laughter is barely audible over the soft rushing of the water. "Kankurou has described me in just those words."

"It is good how you have forged relationships with your siblings, since you see them as people now," Iruka offers, smiling.

"I love them," Gaara says, a finger trailing absently over the tattoo on his forehead.

Iruka sees that statement as a segue into something else he isn't sure he should bring up, but it seems too important not to. "You love Naruto as well."

Gaara freezes for the slightest instant, like a hitch in time. "I am less discreet than I ought to be."

That doesn't sit well with Iruka. "I don't think you have been indiscreet, Gaara-sama. It's just that you seem to...to glow, when he is near. It makes you happy to be around him."

The Kazekage frowns darkly. "If I am that transparent, then I have not acted as I should. It would not do for Naruto to know my feelings."

"It would not affect his friendship with you--"

"Of course it would," Gaara snaps, more emotional than Iruka has yet seen him. "I am not as oblivious as I used to be. I know my feelings will never be returned, and I have heard Naruto's reactions when Kakashi, Sai or other men make suggestive remarks to him. He is tolerant enough, but the idea of homosexuality fundamentally disturbs him. It is foolish to think that he would not view me differently if he knew. Perhaps that would be true if I loved someone else and he knew, but in this case...no. He cannot know."

Iruka thinks Gaara is really underestimating Naruto's resilience, but he can't argue against Gaara's position with any degree of certainty. "I am sorry, Gaara-sama," he says quietly.

Gaara cocks his head. "Wanting...it is a strange and complex feeling, Iruka-san." He sighs, adjusting his position in the water. "My advisors, before the war, were encouraging me to employ a harem, as my father did. Many citizens have expressed interest in becoming my consorts. I do not think a single brow would have been raised if my only consorts were men." He smiles. "Actually, if I asked for a harem of goats and horses, the only questions it would raise would be how many and what kind of lubricant should be stocked in the stables."

Iruka's brows creep up. "That would definitely not go over well in Konoha."

"My people have been determined to secure me whatever I want, even if it is outrageous. They are more loyal than I would have ever suspected. I have often wondered what measures they would take, if I ever let it be generally known that I...want Naruto. I would be almost afraid for him."

Iruka remembers the measures Kakashi took when he wanted Iruka and couldn't have him. He suppresses a shudder; he tries never to think about that. "Your people's devotion to you is very impressive. It reminds me of the love the people had for the Yondaime Hokage. Not that we are not loyal to the Godaime, but...it's different," Iruka admits. "I know the people of Suna did not have the regard for your father that they have for you. From being viewed as both Suna's secret weapon and potential destruction, you have really come far."

Gaara nods, and after they sit in companionable silence for a few moments, the Kazekage changes the subject. "Have you thought of anything you'd like to ask about the mission?"

"Actually, yes," Iruka says, glad for the opportunity to get his concerns about Kurocha off his chest. "From the pictures we were sent, it seems that living conditions in Kurocha are...well, pretty repulsive."

Gaara's eyes lower. "The standard of living there is the lowest of anywhere in Wind Country."

"How did it get so bad?"

The Kazekage shakes his head. "Overpopulation, mostly. Politics as well—that whole region operates almost like a separate country, headed by the Director-General of Security. The past several daimyo have set a precedent of leaving Kurocha to its own devices, usually because of bribes or intimidation. The wealthy of Kurocha don't concern themselves with the hygiene of the city or the welfare of the poor. The caste system is quite entrenched."

"Have you ever thought about trying to change that?" Iruka asks hesitantly. He doesn't want to offend the Kazekage.

"No," Gaara says flatly. "It is not worth the energy. I am aware that Fire Country has a history of the Hokage taking on problems outside of Konoha without a mission directive, but in Wind Country my jurisdiction is very clearly defined. Were I to take action outside of it, the daimyo would immediately press for my removal. Besides, I have enough to deal with as it is, I think."

"Of course, Gaara-sama," Iruka agrees. The answer disappoints him a little, but he knows it would be unrealistic—and unfair—to expect more.

"Which is not to say," Gaara continues, "that I would not seize the opportunity to improve the situation in Kurocha, should one arise. But I see little hope of that." The redhead eyes him intently. "Are you aware of the increasing violence there between the two major religious factions?"

Iruka goes over what he remembers from his mission dossier. "The...Bandu and the Zorossi, right?"

Gaara nods. "Going undercover with the police, you're bound to find out all about it very quickly. I wouldn't be surprised if you ended up right in the middle of it. So far, the violent incidents have been isolated, but tensions are increasing. Be extremely cautious," the Kazekage warns. "It is likely that the situation will interfere with your mission. Do not get too caught up in it. I wouldn't normally say that to an ANBU, but I know this is your first ANBU mission. If anything tests your ability to stay on-task, it will be this, I'd wager."

Iruka smiles wryly as he echoes what he said to Schuldig earlier. "Thank you for the advice, Gaara-sama."

Gaara catches his tone. "I hope I haven't offended you. ANBU is a very big adjustment; I do not mean to imply that I doubt your ability."

"It's alright if you do doubt my ability," Iruka says, shrugging. "I haven't proven myself yet."

"I have no doubt at all that you will comport yourself as you should, and do your best to carry out your mission. You have never failed a mission, if I recall correctly, Iruka-san."

Iruka scratches the back of his neck. "Well, there were missions I would have called failures, Gaara-sama. But officially, no, I haven't."

"Well, if you 'officially' complete this mission, I will be well satisfied."

Iruka almost gasps as the Kazekage suddenly stands up, stretching. Up until now he has admirably ignored the lingering awareness of being wet and naked with such a gorgeous creature, but the sudden full frontal view thrills across his nerves. That red hair framing Gaara's face and cock is terribly alluring.

"I think we have been in here long enough," Gaara is saying. "Temari is likely to come bursting in any moment. She gets nervous when I am in the bath, since I almost drowned recently."

"Understandable," Iruka manages, using all his willpower to prevent an erection. He doesn't think Gaara would care, but it would really embarrass him. He's sure that if this had happened a couple of years ago, he'd already be a brilliant shade of pomegranate.

He feels like he has himself well under control until he looks up to find Gaara standing over him, hand held out to help him up. With his exotically ringed eyes, the gentle lighting on his creamy skin and the moon behind him, Gaara looks like he just stepped out of a divine pantheon. It used to be that Iruka could only get aroused by Kakashi because of the soul bond, but judging from his reaction to Gaara's beauty, his spectrum of attraction has broadened over time.

"Naruto's insane," he hears himself whisper vehemently.

Gaara's eyes widen and he drops his hand. He tilts his head, considering Iruka for a moment. For his part, Iruka considers sinking below the water and not coming up for air again, ever.

A slow smile spreads across Gaara's features. He steps forward until he is directly in front of Iruka, his feet on either side of Iruka's hips. He's close enough that if Iruka were to stick his tongue out, it would touch Gaara's cock. He clenches his jaw, hard, and forces his eyes to remain on the Kazekage's.

Gaara puts gentle hands on either side of Iruka's upturned face. "You are a remarkable person, Iruka," he says. "Kakashi is very lucky."

Iruka inhales and smells the slightly perfumed musk of Gaara's groin, and his heart pounds so hard it blurs his vision. He's sure it's visible in his chest. He feels lightheaded. "Thank you," he croaks, his voice almost cracking.

Gaara leans down so his mouth is near Iruka's ear, hands still caressing Iruka's face and neck. As he speaks, his breath puffs against Iruka's skin, making all the hair on his body prickle and shivers run down his spine. "If the two of you ever wish to leave the life of shinobi and become consorts to the Kazekage, I would welcome you." He pulls back just enough that Iruka can see his eyes, which are practically glowing with mischief.

It takes a couple of tries before Iruka can speak. "You are dangerous, Gaara-sama," he says shakily. "And you don't play fair."

"It's not fun otherwise," Gaara rejoins, and then backs off after running his fingers once through Iruka's loose hair.

"I must admit...I did not expect you to...behave in such a manner," Iruka ventures cautiously, trying to rein in his hormones.

Gaara smiles. It is a nice smile that lightens his face. "I have been schooled in many things since I was appointed to Kazekage. Seduction is an aspect of my education that I find very amusing."

"Some might take that kind of playing seriously," Iruka muses, thinking of the feel of Gaara's hands and his scent.

"Do you?"

"Coming from you, Gaara-sama, I would be unwise to assume either gravity or levity."

Gaara cocks his head, thinking. "Understood. It was half-serious, then, Iruka. Assume both."

Iruka smiles back at the Kazekage, though he doesn't think that really clears anything up. "Alright."

"Temari is on her way here," Gaara calls over his shoulder as he walks across the bath. "I'm going to head her off. Please feel free to stay here as long as you like."

Iruka breathes deeply, calming his excited body down. "Thank you for allowing me to join you," he says politely, pleased that he sounds normal.

"I enjoyed speaking with you. I hope we have occasion to talk more in the future, Iruka," Gaara says, wrapping a towel around his waist and grabbing another to scrub at his hair with.

Now that Gaara is somewhat covered and reasonably far away, Iruka feels confident enough in his control to stand and give a low bow. "It was my pleasure, Gaara-sama."

The Kazekage nods and silently slips from the room. Iruka sinks back down into the water, fully submerging. He groans deeply underwater, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. He really hopes he can hide the end of this interview from Kakashi. If his partner finds out how Gaara teased him, he'll never let Iruka live it down.

He doesn't know who he thinks he's kidding. Even at his level best, he can't hide anything from Kakashi.

Iruka suddenly remembers that Kakashi is actually not around right now, only Jackal. Captain Jackal will have no interest in any of this. He didn't even look up from the files he was studying when Iruka said he was going to go bathe with Gaara.

He rises slowly until his head and shoulders are above water, pensive. Iruka might be bad at hiding things from Kakashi, but Dagon might not be. Schuldig was right; Iruka needs to learn how to think of himself as someone else. Someone completely divorced from himself. The success of their mission could depend on it.

It will definitely be difficult. He should start now.

Iruka stands and emerges from the bath, but Dagon leaves the room.


	8. Stench and the City

**A/N: **There are a lot of aliases and things in this story; I hope it won't be too confusing. It confuses me a bit sometimes. This chapter's a little boring, but hopefully you'll still enjoy it.

Please review! My review count is pathetic.

Beach balls and brownies to the betas, **skatervalentine, cjandre **and the inestimable **bronzetigress.**

**Part 8: Stench and the City**

Iruka's face itches from all the sweat running down it, and his eyes sting with grit and salt. He has a cloth tied over his mouth and a cowl close about his head, but the burning wind still carries fine sand and dust into every crevice imaginable. Whenever he bites down there is an audible crunch from the sand in his mouth. He doesn't want to spit to remove it, because even though in theory they have ample water for the journey, it's not a good idea to waste fluids in the middle of a trackless desert. He's already losing enough moisture through sweating, especially on his back, where his backpack feels like a hot lump of lead against him.

The six of them left Sunagakure in the capable hands of Sabaku no Gaara and Naruto the day before, late in the evening, and traveled all night. They slept in a cave through the morning and the hottest part of the afternoon. At least, theoretically the hottest. It is four p.m. and it's at least 110 degrees Fahrenheit, if Iruka can trust his internal thermometer. If it was hotter than this earlier...Iruka doesn't want to think about it. He longs for trees, shelter, and wind that doesn't feel like convection; it feels like he's walking across a giant, gritty frying pan.

At least the wind is dying off a little. Iruka has been eyeing the horizon, looking for any sign of a sandstorm. He's not entirely sure what he should be looking for. Sai's ink animals will protect them if a storm crops up, but no one wants to lose time huddled in a shelter. Sai would also lose chakra since he would have to constantly reinforce the ink to withstand the ravages of sand and wind, though Nagi's telekinesis might make that unnecessary. In fact, he considers, telekinesis—depending on Nagi's relative strength and how fast his chakra depletes—might even make stopping unnecessary. At any rate, there's no sign of a storm yet. Schuldig has assured Iruka that if the wind isn't blowing enough for saltation, it isn't blowing enough for a storm. Iruka can see the heavy grains of sand occasionally creeping along the ground, but they aren't lifting into the air. He puts his concerns about the wind on the back burner.

He's thankful that Kakashi—out of Jackal mode for the moment, thus freeing Iruka from Dagon as well—is allowing them to travel using chakra to keep from sinking into the sand. Since they are with Jei, even if they encounter guerrillas, stray patrols from the Iwa army or anyone else, they won't be detected through use of chakra. They move much faster than they would slogging through the sand like civilians.

Iruka looks up at Schuldig and Kakashi as they walk side by side in front of him, chatting amiably as if they are strolling along the seaside, instead of navigating a nearly featureless expanse of shallow, boiling-hot dunes. When Kakashi isn't Jackal, he and Schuldig get along famously. Iruka kind of figured they would; they complement each other. They have the same sort of perversity, sexual and otherwise—at least, they do if Schuldig isn't all talk—and where Kakashi has a kind of reserved, lazy, dry wit, Schuldig has a brash, obnoxious sarcasm. Iruka has learned to play off Kakashi's wit with his own, but he's still not as good at it as Schuldig.

Iruka almost wishes that Kakashi and Schuldig could be partners in Kurocha, since that would take some of the pressure off of both him and Kakashi. But, no—Schuldig has to be with Jei. Besides, if Schuldig and Kakashi were partners, that would put Iruka with Jei, and Jei still disconcerts him. Iruka doesn't mind traveling together with him, but he wouldn't want to be alone with him for a protracted length of time.

Iruka flicks his eyes to the side, casting a glance at the figure just behind him on his right. Jei is covered from head to foot with a cowl, scarf, gloves, white robe and boots. Not an inch of skin shows, and Iruka can't even see his bright yellow eye under his cowl. That white skin must be a curse in the desert, he thinks.

::You don't know the half of it, Delphin,:: Schuldig sends. ::You can actually see him get red within seconds if he stands bare in the noonday sun, just like tossing a lobster in a pot.::

Iruka has gotten used to Schuldig picking up on stray thoughts and responding to them. He doesn't complain about it; he needs to get acclimated to having someone speaking in his head, anyway. ::Why did he stand bare in the sun if it burns him so badly?::

Schuldig tosses a grin over his shoulder. He's wearing a cowl but his face is uncovered; breathing the blowing sand doesn't seem to bother him. ::I made him. I wanted to see what would happen. He was as curious as I was, I think. We completely roasted him. He was day-glo pink for two weeks, and shit did he get sick.::

::That's sadistic!:: Iruka is horrified at the scenario, but it sounds like something his students might convince another student to do. When he had students, that is. ::I take it that was when you were kids?::

::Nah. 'Bout a year ago.:: He pauses for Iruka to catch up with him, and pokes the grimacing brunet in the side. ::Of course we were kids, Delphin. I may be a sadist, but I don't make my friends deathly ill if I can help it. I didn't know he'd get sick.::

Iruka isn't really appeased. ::He must have been in such intolerable pain.::

::Oh, haven't I mentioned? Berserker can't feel any pain.::

::No pain? None whatsoever?:: Iruka asks, staring at Schuldig's pale blue cowled head. He can't decide whether that sounds like a dream or a nightmare. It's potentially deadly, he knows that much. He's heard of very rare instances of a condition where someone can't feel pain, but never a ninja, since it's invariably accompanied by a host of other systemic problems, from respiratory to neurological, circulatory to digestive. Jei hasn't exhibited any hint that he suffers from a systemic disorder.

::None whatsoever, internally or externally.::

::How does he know when he's injured?::

::Either he sees it, feels it through something other than pain, or someone has to point it out to him. He can feel the pressure from an injury, but the part of his brain that registers pain just doesn't receive any signals, never has. He gets medic check-ups at least weekly when we're not on missions. I look him over when we are; he doesn't do solos. He used to, but that didn't work out so well for a lot of reasons, including this one.::

::How did he survive as a ninja this long?:: Iruka wonders.

::Luck and talent. If you ever get to see him in a fight, you'll know how.::

"Yer talking about me, ain'tcha," Jei mutters from just behind Iruka's shoulder. Iruka has never once been able to sense the pale man moving. He can generally get a sense of everyone else's position around him, even Kakashi's, but it's as if Jei doesn't even exist until he enters Iruka's direct line of sight, or that warm, gravelly voice runs across his ears. That voice now carries a thicker accent than Iruka remembers from their meeting with the Kazekage.

"Mmm, I'm telling him all sorts of filthy, nasty lies," Schuldig says, lifting his arms and stretching them over his head with a groan.

"He was telling me how he made you burn yourself in the sun--" Iruka begins.

"What, last year?" Jei interjects.

Iruka's head whips around as Schuldig snorts. "Don't listen to him. He knows how my mind works, yeah? We were, like, ten, I think."

"Yeah, about ten," Jei agrees.

Iruka grumbles darkly under his breath.

"Then I told him about how you can't feel pain," Schuldig goes on.

"Aye. Don't feel like you have to go stabbing me in the middle of the night just to prove it to yerself, if you please," Jei growls.

"I'd never--" Iruka pauses. "Is that something else you did when you were kids, Schuldig?"

"Oh, I still do that, if he pisses me off enough. It's okay, though; he always gets me back."

"That sounds like a fun game," Sai says from a little distance behind them. "Perhaps we should all play tonight."

"Sai, we play that game with enemy nin all the time," Iruka says, shaking his head in disbelief. He still has a very hard time telling whether Sai is joking about something or not. He's met ninja who enjoy pain, but not getting stabbed in their sleep. "It's called assassination."

"But it is different if it is your friends," Sai argues.

Iruka opens his mouth and then pauses, trying to wrap his head around this concept. "How do you draw a parallel between knifing your friends while they're asleep and fun?"

"It's an acquired taste, so to speak," Jei says, and Schuldig nods solemnly, as though they're discussing a sacred native dish, like lutefisk or gefilte fish.

Iruka narrows his eyes. "You're putting me on."

"No one will be stabbing anyone else in this group, asleep or otherwise," Kakashi cuts in. "I don't care if you do it every night for fun, you won't do it on my watch. Got it?" It's obvious from his tone that he's teasing for Iruka's benefit, and the brunet bristles.

"Sir, yes, sir!" Schuldig, Jei and Sai all holler at once, followed by Schuldig and Jei both muttering "Killjoy" in sync.

Kakashi looks back at Iruka, his eye crinkling. "Better?" he asks.

Iruka rolls his eyes. "Don't stop everyone's _fun_ on my account," he mutters.

Schuldig laughs. "You're so cute, Iruka. You sure you're ANBU?" He raises a hand, fingers poised to pinch Iruka's cheek.

Feeling a demonstration is in order, Iruka strikes like a snake, wrenching Schuldig's hand back so the wrist is on the point of snapping. He meets the redhead's bright blue eyes evenly, neither of them pausing in their stride.

Schuldig is not fazed; Iruka is beginning to think nothing fazes any Suna ANBU. The man just grins and says, "Ah, point taken. But still, you're a little gooey on the inside, yeah?"

"Lay off 'im, Schu," Jei says. "He's good enough."

Iruka tosses Schuldig's hand back at him and walks on silently. He hates the way those two make him feel like a rookie, like he's in the middle of a hazing or some sort of initiation ritual. He's had enough initiation.

Kakashi drops back to walk next to him, as Schuldig starts chatting with Sai, and Jei falls back to walk next to the extremely taciturn Nagi. Iruka doesn't think Nagi has said a single word since the meeting with the Kazekage. It doesn't stop Schuldig and Jei from trying to get a rise out of him now and again, but Iruka gets the feeling Nagi is used to them ganging up on him by dint of long association. He remains remarkably unmoved, even when Schuldig gets touchy-feely. The most Iruka has seen the kid do is heave a sigh and jerk his hand slightly to the side, telekinetically knocking the redhead onto his ass. Iruka admires Nagi's fortitude.

Iruka hopes Kakashi's not planning to give him a pep talk, or something. Probably not; Kakashi has said that while on the mission he won't do anything with Iruka that he doesn't do with any of his new ANBU recruits, and he doesn't think that will change if Kakashi's taking a break from Jackal. More likely, he'll tell Iruka to man up and stop his pansy sulking, or something equally drill-sergeant.

Kakashi doesn't say anything, just walks beside him, matching his stride.

After a while—with palpable relief—Iruka stops waiting for him to speak, and relaxes, admiring the heat mirages in the distance. It is enough to know that even while Kakashi is his captain, he's still Iruka's partner.

The first signs of Kurocha, five afternoons later, are the kettles of vultures circling in the sky above the horizon. Iruka can't tell how far away they are, because of the way distance is distorted in the open desert. He doesn't really want to get close enough to see them clearly.

As they get nearer, a few of the birds ride thermals pretty close to where their little group is trudging across the sand. Not close enough for Iruka to see how big they are, but close enough to make him nervous. He wonders if the birds are scouting, waiting for them all to keel over so they can swoop down and gorge on their dead flesh. The ANBU troupe is also close enough now that Iruka can smell the water of the river, underneath a softly undulating scent of baking shit and garbage. He knows that smell is going to be smothering before too much longer, and the combination of the smell and the birds is enough that he's sure his displeasure is evident.

"You look worried, Father Dagon," Sai says, confirming his belief. "You do not like vultures?"

"What's to like?" Iruka grumbles. He's given up trying to get people to stop giving him nicknames. And if he can't beat them, he might as well join them. "They're hovering up there, waiting for us to die, Mother Hydra."

"You are mistaken," Sai says, his eyes curving in his characteristic smile over the tan cloth covering his nose and mouth. "They do not regard anything that moves as food. They have no interest in us at all."

Iruka smiles back, a little wry. "You've read about them."

"Of course," chirps Sai. "I have also read that while some vultures in other countries have a sense of smell, these do not. I think we will wish we shared that quality in a very short time, Iruka-san."

"I already wish that." Iruka's eyes fall on Kakashi. "I can't imagine how Kakashi is going to handle this."

"With poise, I expect," Sai rejoins.

"Or how an Inuzuka would handle it," Iruka adds.

"Just breathe it all in as much as possible," Kakashi calls over his shoulder. "Don't try to block out the scent. You'll get acclimated to it that much faster. You'll probably never stop smelling it completely, but if you keep breathing it in, by the time we get to the city it shouldn't be enough to bring you to your knees or make you nauseous."

Sai claps Iruka on the shoulder, looking marvelously unconcerned. "Perhaps our olfactory senses will simply shut down from overstimulation," he says.

Iruka grits his teeth and inhales deeply, chalking this up to yet more endurance training. He knows he can handle this; it's just repugnant. "I like people," he sighs, "I really do. But when you get ten million of them together in close proximity, they really do make a mess, don't they?"

"It is hard to believe there are that many people in the world, much less all living together in one city," Sai muses. "Even in Ame, there were not half that many people."

"I wonder why the population had such a boom out here." Iruka realizes after he says it that Sai will probably inundate him with potential reasons, but the conversation is pleasantly distracting, so he decides he doesn't mind.

"Well, for one thing," Sai begins, "there are hardly any shinobi in Kurocha at all. So, the death rate is much lower than the birth rate. Then there are environmental factors; this area began as a purely agrarian society concentrated around the Kurocha River, which meant that anyone trying to work the land needed a lot of labor, and..."

Iruka listens with half an ear, focusing on the distant horizon, trying to see signs of the skyscrapers that will eventually peer over it. Apparently some of the buildings are higher than the tallest buildings in Ame were, and Iruka must admit he's curious to see the city in person.

Eventually they start passing the occasional dead, sandblasted tree. They pass quite close to one with a vulture perched on a nearly petrified branch, and Iruka is amazed at the size of the bird—it's at least four feet long, from head to tail. At any rate, Sai appears to have been right about the vultures being uninterested; the bird doesn't even deign to look at them as they walk by.

About the time they start seeing the cityscape of Kurocha in the distance, the sand turns into hard, pebbled soil and they begin passing patches of sparse, tough grass. They stop using chakra to walk on the sand about the time Iruka starts hearing the burbling of the Kurocha River in the distance. They're still roughly fifteen miles from the city, according to Sai. The smell of human filth gets stronger and stronger, but Iruka follows his captain's advice and doesn't try to block it out. It slowly fades to a kind of unpleasant background music; something he's constantly aware of on some level, but can ignore.

They find their way onto a dirt road that leads them past drip-irrigated orchards of almond and carob trees, crops of pale grain, fields of date palms, and rows of tall, spiny cacti that Sai informs Iruka grow something called 'cereus apples'. It's early summer, not harvest season for any of the crops, so there are hardly any people in the fields. The few that they see pay them no mind.

No matter how many isolated houses they pass, the city in the distance doesn't really seem to get any closer for the majority of the afternoon. Then—suddenly, it seems—in the hour of twilight, the city begins to loom very large. They pass the night in its shadow with a nomadic caravan, which is shepherding a herd of goats to market, along with wagonloads of copper ore and other gems and minerals to trade.

The nomads are quite friendly to them, sharing out their meal of roasted desert hare, prickly pears and yucca root in exchange for stories about other countries. Schuldig does most of the talking; it seems like he's been everywhere and done everything. Either that, or he's appropriated other people's experiences. From what Iruka knows of the redhead, the latter seems more likely.

Iruka's eye is drawn to Kakashi over and over, since his cowl and mask are off and his haircut is visible. Even though they probably won't run into anyone who would know who Kakashi is, Kakashi decided his hair was too distinctive for an undercover mission, and had it cut. It's only a couple of inches long now, and bleached peroxide-blond. His eyebrows are bleached as well. It looks patently fake, but it's very misdirecting—it doesn't look like his natural color would be silver. As long as he doesn't let his beard grow, anyway.

Jei is sitting next to Kakashi, and the two of them look like brothers. Scarred faces, pale skin and hair, and both with a patch over their left eye. The nomads seem wary of them, or perhaps just wary of Jei. Every now and then Jei will look at their shaman with an insidious hunger, fingers of killing intent creeping from his person for just a moment before receding. Iruka doesn't know what that's about, but he sees Schuldig throwing sharp glances Jei's way now and again, and figures that the redhead is keeping him under control. He hopes they can trust the Suna ANBU; he doesn't know if Gaara was able to spare the cream of the crop, or something more like the bottom of the barrel.

As Iruka watches, without even looking at each other Jei and Kakashi both fish a kunai out of their hip pouches and begin spinning them back and forth across their knuckles, perfectly synchronized. Kakashi catches Iruka's eye and smirks at him. Iruka decides that's enough; he's going to sleep.

He spreads his bedroll down near one of the fires, away from the central area where the goats and the majority of people are. As he lies down, he hears someone approaching him, and turns over as Kakashi unrolls his pad right next to him.

Kakashi sits down and lights a hand-rolled cigarette, something that the majority of nomadic men have been smoking all evening. He takes a drag and passes it to Iruka, who takes it and sits back up. Inhaling the smoke, Iruka finds it smooth and pleasant, with a strong herbal flavor he can't place. He and Kakashi pass the cigarette back and forth for a while in silence.

"Tomorrow," Kakashi finally says, stubbing out the remains of the cigarette. "Schuldig will get us in with the police, and after that we're on our own. You ready?"

"I'm ready," Iruka affirms. He's feeling very laid-back—not stoned, per se, but a lot more relaxed than he has been the past week or so. He hopes that means he'll sleep well. "I'm glad we finally made it. I hope we get a chance to shower soon."

Kakashi grunts in acknowledgement. "The station will probably have showers. Schu will find us somewhere."

"He is definitely useful, just like he said."

"He's going to spend the morning setting up the team link while we walk," Kakashi says, stretching his arms out behind him and then in front. "It's too bad he's not truly telepathic anymore."

"This mission wouldn't be necessary at all, if he was," Iruka muses.

"It would be like a deus ex machina, I guess. Too good to be true. Plus, from talking to him, I get the idea that back in the day he was entirely self-serving, so he wouldn't have been working for Gaara anyway."

Iruka pauses. "Do you think we can trust them?"

"I think we can trust Gaara," Kakashi responds, lying down on his back with his arms behind his head. "I don't think any of his ANBU would jeopardize our mission. Especially not when their Kazekage's life is at stake."

"Even Jei?" Iruka asks cautiously.

"You don't like him?"

"I get a pretty bloodthirsty vibe from him sometimes."

"Ah. People have said the same about me, you know. ANBU get that a lot."

Iruka considers that. "Alright. I'll buy that." He lies down next to Kakashi and is almost startled when his partner leans over and kisses him, softly, on the mouth.

"Night, baby," Kakashi whispers, and lies back down.

Iruka doesn't say anything, but he takes one of Kakashi's hands in his own before allowing himself to drift off.

Iruka is beginning to wish he was not a ninja.

He's been trained since he was practically a toddler to have excellent senses—not as exquisite as Kakashi's, naturally, but they're pretty damn good. Usually he's proud of them. But now, those senses seem like a handicap. He's hyper-aware of his surroundings, and it's complete sensory overload. He can understand how a part of Schuldig's mind burned out, if he ever had to deal with something like this.

There are people _everywhere. _They cover the streets from end to end, chattering, laughing, hollering, or quietly focused, all relentlessly moving to what purpose Iruka can't imagine. He doesn't know what so many people could possibly have to do at ten in the morning. Every inhalation seems composed of a million kinds of incense, pomade, and cologne over skin, sweat, and always the garbage. His skin crawls as the people rush past him in noisy waves.

::Hang in there, Delphin,:: Schuldig sends. ::You'll get used to it.::

::I hope not,:: Iruka sends back, glad for the distraction. He never thought having a conversation with someone in his head would be comforting, but it is; it feels so private and isolated in this ocean of bodies. ::Did you finish the link?::

::I did. Try it out.::

Iruka hesitates, slipping around a pack of doe-eyed children with their hands outstretched. They have seen far too many such children since they entered the city. He looks ahead, putting them out of his mind, following in Kakashi's footsteps as well as he can. It's hard to fight the urge to grab on to his captain's hand or shirt so he doesn't lose him. If they have a telepathic link, though, even if they do get separated it should be okay.

::Captain?:: Iruka queries, feeling a little silly, even though he's gotten used to talking to Schuldig like this.

::Testing,:: he hears. It's Sai's voice. He wonders if it's actually Kakashi, if it's possible to think in someone else's voice.

::You can,:: Schuldig answers, ::but don't. It's confusing enough at first.::

::Can I send to more than one person at a time?::

::Yeah, but it'll get harder when you're farther away from me. Just concentrate on one-to-one communication for now. Remember, I'll be able to pick up on anything you send to anyone.::

Iruka takes a quick look around, wishing Sai and Nagi hadn't left for parts unknown already. Nagi could keep people from constantly jostling them, for one thing. And Sai...Iruka's really come to appreciate Sai over the past week. Sai is like a pretty, sardonic encyclopedia, and he's always calm and pleasant. Iruka knows that's because Sai's emotionally stunted, but can't help enjoying the lack of drama.

::I still don't think we should rely on this method of communicating too much,:: Iruka hears, and that's definitely Kakashi.

::I know you don't trust it, Captain, but it's useful, yeah? You don't have to use it for anything but updates, if you don't want to,:: Schuldig responds.

::Right. Is it working the way it's supposed to? Iruka?::

::Yes, I hear you,:: Iruka sends.

::Sai?:: Kakashi again.

::Affirmative, Captain,:: Sai sends, and it doesn't surprise Iruka at all that Kakashi's already got the hang of sending to multiple people, some of whom aren't anywhere near Schuldig.

::Nagi?::

::Yes.:: The word is almost inaudible, but clear.

::I'm receiving you, too, Captain,:: Jei sends. ::I've located a station in the district you wanted. Seems there's been a pretty high turnover in this area, officers getting transferred left and right. Schuldig'll hardly have to do anything.::

::How far away are you?:: Kakashi asks.

::Right over your heads, Captain,:: Jei responds, and then he's suddenly in front of Iruka, slightly crooked teeth bared in a smile. Iruka's not surprised at how long and pointed his canines are; it almost seems amusing. Clichéd, even. ::Let's go.::

Iruka looks up to the sky, and then back down again. He's not given to vertigo, and he's never heard of getting dizzy from looking up, but in the midst of these towering buildings that's just what keeps happening to him. Some of these towers are a hundred stories high. He's used to traveling on rooftops, but this will be an entirely new experience.

Kakashi has turned to face them, and Iruka can read displeasure on his bared face.

"Captain Vogelscheuche, I promise no one will notice a thing," Schuldig insists. "Come on, do you really want to slog through this sea of humanity all morning? We won't get there until sunset."

"I don't really care how long it takes to get there, if it means the difference between being detected and being overlooked," Kakashi says. "But if you can keep anyone from noticing us, I have no complaints about using the roofs."

"Non-detection is our specialty, Captain," Schuldig assures him with a bow.

"Let's go, then."

They spring up the side of the nearest building, all staying carefully within Jei's range. Once on the roof, Iruka looks down experimentally, and finds that he doesn't have the vertigo looking down that he did looking up, even as high as they are. He is also profoundly relieved to be away from the constant press of bodies, enough to wish the four of them could stay together for this mission so that they could always travel this way.

Jei leads their tight-knit group out across the city blocks. Rooftop travel here is considerably more difficult than Iruka is accustomed to, because the buildings all seem to be different heights, and he has to expend a lot more chakra than he's used to just to get from one place to the next. But it doesn't take long before they're descending to street level again, in front of a run-down twelve-story building. It looks like a converted tenement building; the only indications of the station's actual function are the uniformed officers coming and going.

They approach the rickety front desk, where a bored dispatcher is reading an artillery magazine in a language Iruka doesn't recognize. Schuldig steps forward and sticks a hand in front of the man's face, as though showing him an invisible piece of paper. The dispatcher takes the nonexistent paper, sets it on his desk and stamps it—the ink glistens on the wood of the desk—and goes through the motions of stuffing it in a file cabinet. He waves them off to the weapons and uniform dispensaries, and goes back to his magazine.

And that's it; they're in. The simplicity is shocking, and Iruka wonders if the other shoe will drop after Schuldig leaves.

::But don't we need some kind of backstory? Information about where we've transferred from, or--::

::No one will ask you, Delphin, and you shouldn't offer. If you think someone's suspicious, let me know and I'll tell you what to say, but no one will be suspicious. I know my job.::

::But I don't even know what you've said my name is,:: Iruka thinks incredulously.

::I haven't. You should pick it out before I go.:: Schuldig's thoughts are lazy, unconcerned.

::Is that fake form really all we need?:: Kakashi cuts in. ::They'll issue us weapons just like that?::

::It's all you need, Captain. I know my job.:: Schuldig is beginning to sound a little petulant, and Iruka gets the feeling he abhors having to explain exactly how his jutsu work. Iruka wonders if he has been entirely truthful about not being able to manipulate minds from the inside, because Iruka can't see how they can pull this off otherwise.

::Just act like you know what's going on and you're exactly where you're supposed to be,:: Jei sends. ::You'll find everything else will fall into place. Schuldig's already scripted your acceptance here.::

::Scripted?:: Iruka asks.

::It's quite easy for him. People don't generally expect their thoughts to belong to anyone else, and as long as they don't fall outside the scope of normal experience, people's thoughts are simple for Schuldig to lead and manipulate, even if he can't alter them forcibly. It's as easy for him as breathing; you have nothing to worry over.::

Those thoughts turn Iruka's spine to ice. He really can't wait until he and Kakashi are on their own, and Schuldig and Jei are far away, concentrating on other things.

Kakashi and he pick up uniforms and weapons, which consist of dual tonfa, a taser and a few canisters of mace, tear, and pepper gas. After consulting Schuldig, Iruka signs out his arsenal with the name 'Ravi Morimoto', while Kakashi chooses 'Janak Ieyasu'. Too many names, Iruka thinks. He's been on undercover missions before, but he's never had an ANBU codename and a mission alter ego to deal with at the same time.

To Iruka's profound relief, they quickly locate a locker room with showers, and all four of them take the time to wash off the sand and road grime. Finally clean, Iruka pulls on his new uniform, itchy with starch, to try the fit. It's not anywhere near as snug as his ninja uniform; it feels like he could hide enough weaponry in it to sink an elephant. He's not sure if that makes him more or less secure.

Deciding now is not the time to ponder such things, he pulls his sand-colored uniform off and dresses in the only semi-clean outfit he has left in his pack, which happens to be the blacks from his ANBU uniform. They fit like a second skin; even a single secreted shuriken would be easy to spot.

As he puts his police gear away in his new personal locker, surreptitiously infusing the door and the lock with chakra in true ninja-paranoid style, he notices one of his fellow officers openly checking out his ass from across the room. Sighing, he reaches behind himself and snaps his fingers in front of the focus of the officer's attention.

The eyes jerk up to his, and he smiles sweetly. "Exit only," he says, and turns away before his new comrade can become properly indignant. He hears a blustery, grumbling denial, and hopes he hasn't just made an enemy.

The police station really is a converted tenement building, and it sits in the middle of other tenements in a district far too shabby to have ever been considered bourgeois, but not shabby enough to be a slum by this city's standards. Iruka and Kakashi find a somewhat-furnished apartment that has an acceptable level of rat and roach inhabitation without too much trouble, and lease it for six months with a wad of imaginary Schuldig-cash that Iruka can't believe no one's ever going to notice isn't actually in the coffers. Schuldig assures him that he'll follow up on it well enough that even if the actual cash isn't there, the numbers will be in the proper bank accounts, so it's as though they've actually paid, and everyone will be happy.

Iruka supposes that logic isn't any more preposterous than the 'invisible hand' of economics. ::You know your job, I guess,:: he sends wryly.

::I do indeed, Sonnenschein,:: Schuldig sends back cheerily.

Iruka closes his eyes. ::And what the hell is that you're calling me, now?::

::Well, Ravi means 'sun', you know.::

::I didn't.:: Iruka sighs, walking to his bedroom and throwing his bag down on his new bed, which is a bare mattress on the water-stained wooden floor. ::Just stick with 'Delphin', would you? It's hard enough for me to remember who I'm supposed to be without you tossing in all these nicknames in some language I've never heard.::

The look on the redhead's face makes Iruka think he's actually hurt his feelings for a second, but he doesn't trust the inclination to apologize, so he just meets Schuldig's eyes evenly.

After a moment Schuldig gives him a toothy smile. "Du bist mein Sonnenschein, mein einziger Sonnenschein, " he sings, his nasally voice remarkably off-key and screechy. "Du machst mich glücklich, wenn der himmel grau iiiiist..."

Jei suddenly races into the room, throwing both arms around Schuldig's neck and clasping both hands over his mouth. His bright yellow eye is wild. "_Don't_ let him sing," he spits vehemently at Iruka. "I can't abide it. I'll end up slaughterin' everyone in this district, and there'll be _so much paperwork..._" He shudders.

Above the scarred marble hands, Schuldig's eyes are laughing. He gently pulls the hands from his face. "I'll stop; I'll stop. Only keeping you on your toes, yeah?" He winks at Iruka as Jei grumbles and retreats to the living room, twitching and scratching furtively at the back of his head.

The majority of that exchange has gone right over Iruka's head. "Um...was he serious?" he ventures.

Schuldig waves a hand. "Ah, don't worry about it, Dagon. I know how far I can push him and still keep the bureaucracy to a minimum, yeah?"

Iruka's certain that Schuldig's missing his point on purpose. "I don't care about doing paperwork, but if he's so unstable that he'll start killing civilians because you can't carry a tune--"

"Ach, everybody's a critic," Schuldig grumbles. "You let me worry about Berserker, okay? We might screw around a bit, but we won't screw up a mission. Especially not one where Gaara-sama's life might depend on the outcome." Like everything that comes out of Schuldig's mouth, that's said just a touch too flippantly for Iruka to be able to tell if it's meant sincerely or not.

Iruka shrugs, deciding that it's really best if he focuses on his own part in the mission and leaves his mysterious teammates to their own devices. "Gaara-sama said you two work well together, so I'll leave you to it."

"Speaking of leaving, I think you and the Captain are settled in as well as can be," Schuldig announces, clapping his hands together. He turns and walks back to the living room, and Iruka follows him. Jei is already hovering by the front door, carrying both his and Schuldig's packs. "It's time we were off, yeah?" The redhead taps his temple. "Call if you need us."

"Report when you've settled wherever you're going to settle," Kakashi says, slouching comfortably against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Yes, Captain," Schuldig says, and with a wink and a jaunty salute he leaves the apartment, Jei like a ghost on his heels.

Iruka and Kakashi both stare at the door for a few moments after the Suna ANBU depart. Iruka feels slightly uncomfortable; he's not sure how he's supposed to act now. It's the first time he's been alone with Kakashi as his ANBU subordinate, and since they probably won't be doing any recon until tomorrow, he's not sure if he should be Dagon or Iruka.

"We should get food," Kakashi says, dragging him from his thoughts.

The idea of venturing out into the semi-darkness full of people doesn't appeal to Iruka at all, even if he is hungry. "We have ration bars left."

"We need to familiarize ourselves with the area." Kakashi's tone is flat, inflectionless. The Jackal is back.

Dagon quickly crushes Iruka's disappointment, his vague hope that they could have spent one last night together before this mission was fully underway. "Yes, Captain."

Jackal nods and walks briskly through the front door, and Dagon follows without a tender thought or a backward glance.


	9. We Didn't Start the Fire

**A/N: **A short chapter today. It's not boring! It's incredibly exciting! Woo! You should read it and make comments! Yes, I'm being very silly. It's good to be silly sometimes, isn't it? If it's not, I'm in a lot of trouble. But anyway, there's a bit of disturbing imagery in this part, I'm not sure how tame or gross it is. Just a bit of a warning. And so you don't get too horribly confused, here's a little key to Kakashi and Iruka's alter-egos:

Kakashi = Captain Jackal, Lieutenant Janak, Captain Vogelscheuche

Iruka = Dagon, Lieutenant Ravi, Delphin, Sonnenschein

I don't use all these names in this chapter, but I figured I'd put them down anyway. And though I don't think there's any German in this chapter, if you ever notice me butchering German or any other language, please let me know!

Another thing: the caste system I'm using for Kurocha is based on an outdated system from India. I don't claim to know much about India, so if you have any thoughts about it, find it fallacious, inappropriate, or some such, don't hesitate to comment. I might not change anything, but it's good to have input.

*-*-*-*

**Part 9: We Didn't Start the Fire**

One of the many things Ibiki taught Iruka during his ANBU boot camp was that, on an undercover mission, ANBU are singular actors. Certainly every ninja has to be an actor at some point, particularly when undercover, but ANBU are a little different. An ANBU acting is not a person pretending to be someone else, or—most effectively—pretending to be themselves. An ANBU acting is a blank slate playing at being a human.

Ibiki described the most effective ANBU actor as someone for whom living the ordinary parts of their life was a kind of method acting, a study in the business of being human. For an ANBU to actually _be_ human is, Ibiki said, extremely inadvisable. Humanity is for when one is off-duty, which—ideally--an ANBU never really is.

It reminds Iruka rather a lot of Sai, the way the man studies so diligently to fit in with those around him, those he professes to like. Iruka had gone on a few missions with Sai as a chuunin, and he knows that Sai is an even better actor when he has no personal stake in things, when he doesn't care. Kakashi is nearly the same; a brilliant actor when he has no emotional stake, but with the added contrast of being a miserable one when he does.

Of course, Kakashi only lets himself have an emotional stake in things when he feels relatively safe. Jackal, as far as Iruka can tell, is perfectly cold inside even as he gives their pretty precinct captain a relaxed, flirtatious grin and slouches his way down the station corridor in the morning, radiating casual cheer.

Dagon has not yet achieved that effortless chill. He isn't entirely sure he wants to. At least, not until he sees his first shudderling.

It is, as Dagon expects, a stifling afternoon, oppressive with heat and the proximity of millions. He and Kakashi are following one of their fellow detectives around their assigned district, weaving among the plentiful foot traffic, bicycles, rickshaws, carts drawn by a breed of sturdy, wide-hoofed horses, and the occasional car or truck. Motor vehicles are a luxury only the wealthy can afford, and most of that sort don't come into this district, near as it is to the slums. But there are those who have business in this place, most likely as unsavory as the setting where it occurs, so on occasion bursts of annoyed honking chase the throngs of pedestrians, bikes, and horses to the sides of the road. Not that anyone's in a hurry to get out of the way of some rich bastard sitting in an air-conditioned car.

Dagon had originally thought their chances of finding out who their target was would be better if at least one of them—Jackal, obviously—held a higher rank than lieutenant, but according to Schuldig that would mean more difficulty for not much more return. There are several lieutenants in each district, but only one captain, so it would be difficult to suddenly displace one. Lieutenant is a high enough rank that they can insinuate themselves with the higher-ups, and low enough that they don't attract a lot of attention or get caught up in all the politics surrounding the police institution. But even so, it involves a bit of grunt work.

Dagon follows his fellow lieutenant, Pavan, with a smile plastered on his face that feels like his ANBU mask. Not because he feels any particular need for such a thing, but just to get in the practice of detachment. He is pleased with his progress before he remembers that ego will just get in the way, and tries to feel nothing, while still being friendly and personable. Then he sees the child.

The child is sitting on the edge of the street, humming into a reed pipe, looking very small and nearly invisible in the press of people who barely part enough to leave room for it. Dagon can't tell what sex it is; it has luminous black eyes, long curly hair, and cheeks replete with baby fat, filth, and long, ugly scarring. It is also missing its left hand, the stump of its arm ending in blackened bandages that have gone far too long without changing. Dagon can see the gangrene setting in above the wrappings, creeping up the elbow. Its other disfigurements have been ill-treated as well. The child will be dead soon. Even if it were to receive proper care now, at this point the child would at the least lose an arm and pieces of its face—probably an eye, too, now that he looks closer. He can only imagine the pain that the child is suffering, and Dagon's been through more than his share of agonies.

His agonies were always alleviated by proper medical care, though.

Dagon struggles for dissociation, but can't help wondering how all these jaded onlookers can just walk past such a spectacle without a single glance. Jackal, casually slouched and strolling as though he's at home in Konoha—book included, though it's not pornographic for once—doesn't even appear to notice the child.

Pavan nudges him. "Hey, Ravi, you act like they didn't have shudderlings in your district."

Pavan's partner, Vidya, fingers her tonfa idly as she narrows her dark brown eyes at him. "It's only a Dalit. What are you so upset about?"

Realizing he isn't hiding his horror at the child's condition anywhere near as well as he should, Dagon forces a laugh. He knows from his research of the area that the Dalits are the lowest caste in Kurocha, the untouchables whose very shadows soil the oiled and painted skins of the upper castes. To show concern for them, or take any notice of them at all, simply isn't done. It's obvious that the child is only out piping on the street to earn money from tourists—who aren't plentiful in this district, but do exist, standing out with their lighter skin and odd clothing—since no one else would take any notice. For Iruka to be horrified is at best confusing, and at worst, suspicious.

"I'm used to children with better hygiene, is all," he says, trying to project more confidence than he feels. He makes a mental note to go over the physical differences between the castes with Jackal later, so he can spot them more easily. Not that he thinks a child in such a situation could be from a higher caste, but it would still be prudent. He's used to a hierarchy, but not to the dehumanization of Kurocha's system, so he acknowledges the need to be more careful.

Pavan and Vidya are apparently satisfied enough with his answer, or at any rate become distracted enough by an argument that breaks out loudly across the street. As they look into it—more interested in being entertained than keeping the peace, it seems—Dagon takes the opportunity to send a question to Jackal and Schuldig. ::What's a shudderling?::

Jackal answers him promptly. ::Dalit kids are often orphans, for various reasons. There are people who...harvest those kids, I guess you could say. Kurocha gets a lot of tourists, as you may have read in your research, it being a big exotic city. We don't get to see the pleasant parts of the city, but you must have seen a few tourists walking around here on the wild side.::

::Of course.::

::And tourists always have money. Sometimes the orphans are trained to steal it, kill for it or whatever, but that can cause problems for their handlers. More often, they're trained to sing, or dance, or play instruments for money. Less hassle that way. And tourists are most inclined to give money to sick or disfigured children, from their misguided belief that the money will be used for the child's benefit. So--::

::You're saying--:: Dagon's jaw is hurting where he's clenching it under his brittle smile, and he forces his face to relax. He's grateful for his uniform and his weapons, since they keep the crowds from pressing in around him, and give him precious breathing room. ::You mean that child was mutilated on purpose to bring in more money? The hand, the gangrene, everything?::

Jackal scratches his head and whistles tunelessly up at the washed-out blue sky. ::That particular child, I couldn't say. But it's more likely than not. In most large cities where this kind of thing happens, they don't do much more than blind a kid, or cut his tongue out, maybe break a bone or two. Not enough disfigurement to inspire real revulsion. But here in Kurocha, it's become something of a...tradition isn't the right word, but it fits well enough, I guess. It's a convention to cut the kids up enough to induce shudders in tourists. Competition with panhandling lepers, maybe.::

Dagon punches Jackal playfully on the shoulder. "Pay attention, Janak; you can't learn the ropes by watching the sky." ::That was a horrible joke, Captain.::

Jackal raises a brow at him. "I can't learn the ropes by watching Pavan egging on a street brawl, either," he drawls. ::I haven't made any jokes.::

::You really think...never mind. I don't want to know,:: Dagon decides. ::So that's why they're called shudderlings? Morbid.::

The noise from the brawl begins to die down; Pavan hasn't really been inciting riot, just getting the participants to pay attention to him by a combination of aggression and cheek. It works well, Dagon notes, as all parties back down and begin to disperse.

::Shudderlings may not be the most horrible thing you see while you're here, Delphin,:: Dagon hears. He doesn't know how he can tell from hearing a thought, but Schuldig sounds slightly breathless. ::You have to be prepared for anything, in a city like this.::

::Something worse than mutilating children for fun and profit? I'll keep that in mind,:: Dagon sends, slightly sardonic.

::See that you do,:: sends Jackal. ::In the meantime, turn your attention elsewhere. We have a job to do.::

Dagon tamps down a spike of irritation. ::Yes, Captain.::

"Is there a fire somewhere?" Jackal asks Vidya.

The stocky woman narrows her eyes and cocks her head, as though listening to something other than the monotonous din around her, hands softly stroking the handles of her weapons. Dagon doesn't like the way her hands hover lovingly around her tonfa at all times, as though she'd like nothing better than to beat someone senseless with them. "Now that you mention it, it sounds like there are fire engines somewhere. I can't tell where; they're far away."

Dagon can't hear anything of the sort; he thinks it's probably just that he's not used to his over-stimulated ears having to pick out sounds in a huge city like this. At least, he hopes that's the problem.

Jackal gets a gleeful look on his face and claps his hands like an excited child. "I love fire! Can we go have a look?"

Pavan and Vidya exchange a glance, and Pavan looks over at Dagon with an expression that asks, 'Is he always like this?' Dagon rolls his eyes and shrugs, wondering what it is about this fire that's caught Jackal's attention.

"If it's not too far away, sure," Pavan says. "But I can't really tell—"

"There's smoke," Jackal says, pointing away to the east. Dagon follows his finger, but can't see anything besides the buildings. He moves further into the middle of the street, around a man charcoal-grilling what looks like skewers of exquisite-smelling chicken and dodging a herd of cyclists, and finally sees a patch of blue sky with a dark grey tinge to it.

Jackal is already moving like quicksilver through the crowds; Vidya and Pavan are having a hard time following him. Dagon hurries to bring up the rear, trying hard to focus his senses while keeping up with his comrades. Now that he knows it's there, he can smell smoke on the air, and hear the distant clang of fire engines.

The fire is not 'nearby', it's almost thirty blocks away, but Jackal moves too quickly for Pavan to call a halt to their progress. He and Vidya seem curious, as well. As they approach, the mood among the pedestrians seems to sour and dampen. The ash and soot blowing through the streets is worse than sand; it's adhesive and carries the stench of something lost. Dagon wishes he had a scarf to tie over his face so he doesn't have to breathe it all in.

The fire is out by the time Dagon finally sets eyes on the ruined city block. It must have been quite an inferno; the whole block is leveled. Firefighters are still running in and out of the ruins, but most of the drama of the fire is past. Dagon is unsure, though, about drama among the onlookers—there is a darkness hanging over them that makes him wonder just what exactly was destroyed here.

He would ask, but he's having a much harder time getting through the crowds now—they're not moving, they're just crowding the barricades the police have set up around the perimeter. Many of them look at him mutinously as he shoves past, towards the blockade. He notices several people crying, as well, and wonders if there were people in the buildings when they burned down.

::This block was owned by a Bandu temple,:: Jackal informs him. He can see Jackal several yards ahead of him, talking to another officer. ::The temple and its outbuildings have all been completely destroyed.::

That explains the heavy tension and near-silence smothering the crowds. It feels like the proverbial calm before the storm. Dagon approaches some officers and offers to help with crowd control, and his offer is accepted gratefully. One doesn't have to be a ninja to know that this assemblage is a powder keg. He can see the Zorossi and the Bandu, already self-segregated, beginning to square off. ::The Bandu think the Zorossi are responsible?:: he asks Jackal, as he draws on his stern-but-kind authoritarian aura that years of teaching has perfected, talking down the more agitated individuals. He notices that the Zorossi shrink away from him, and from any other police officers. His fellow officers do not approach any of the Zorossi, either. Probably because they are mostly Dalits, Dagon supposes. Though he doesn't like it, he avoids the Zorossi as well.

::Yes, they do,:: Jackal replies after a moment. Dagon can see his Captain talking to the firefighters, inspecting the outskirts of the rubble. ::Schuldig, can you read the situation over here?::

Dagon knows that Schuldig must be bombarded with random thoughts from the millions of people surrounding them. He doesn't know how Schuldig could wade through that mess to pick out groups of thoughts or individual thoughts, but Schuldig has assured them that it's a skill he's honed from birth.

::Already on it, Captain,:: Schuldig sends. ::As far as I can tell, no one in a five or six mile radius set that fire. You'd have to do a full arson investigation to be sure, but from the tone I'm picking up, either the fire was an accident or the people who set it were killed in the blaze. Accident is most likely. Not that you'll ever get the Bandu to accept something like that. This is probably going to blow up sooner or later, Captain. I don't think it'll be tonight, but soon. Tomorrow, maybe.::

::Have you picked up on anything that might imply this has anything to do with our target?:: Jackal asks.

::No, but that's not saying much,:: Schuldig replies.

::Let me know if you get something.::

::Will do, Captain.::

"I think this is probably a dead end," Jackal mutters, suddenly beside Dagon, tapping his tonfa warningly against the barricade. "When Schu picked up on the unrest in this area I had some hopes that it might be a lead, but unless our target has strong religious or political leanings..." He trails off, eye narrowed in thought.

"Let's just focus on keeping this situation from escalating, and go over it later," Dagon suggests.

He senses more than sees Jackal's nod.

Four hours later, they finally return to their grungy apartment. Dagon has decided crowd control is not much different from classroom control, except usually his classes aren't on the verge of true violence. Rioting, maybe, but not bloody vengeance. The tension of the Bandu didn't unnerve him, though, not like the quiet, almost subservient attitudes of the Zorossi. They seemed to expect that the tides would turn against them sooner than later, and from what Dagon could tell, they probably weren't wrong.

He and his captain sit at their worm-eaten table with the cumin-fragrant skewered lamb and tamarind chutney they picked up for dinner from a street vendor, along with a carton of heavily spiced green mango, and eat quietly. Dagon cannot complain about the taste of the food; it's unlike anything he's ever tasted in Konoha—a far cry from ramen, definitely—but it's all exploding with delicious, savory flavors. Ordinarily Dagon would worry about hygiene and health codes, but since it's obvious that trying to hold to certain standards of cleanliness in Kurocha will most likely result in his dehydration and starvation, he puts it from his mind. Shinobi are enabled, through various vaccinations and other drugs, to withstand many kinds of diseases, parasites and poisons, so he hopes that will be enough to keep them from getting ill in the middle of their mission.

Dagon wonders if he can drop his ANBU facade since they're at home now—as home as they're going to get in this city—but decides to keep it up since Jackal shows no sign of dropping his.

Sucking on his last empty skewer, Dagon decides to put forth an idea, since they're going to stay in mission mode. "Perhaps our target is manipulating the conflict between the two religious factions, Captain? Since it seems odd that such a large-scale fire would accidentally occur in such a strategic location, and it also seems that the Zorossi had nothing to do with it."

Jackal raises a brow. "It's a thought, but it assumes quite a lot. We have no reason to believe the target has any interest in the Zorossi/Bandu conflict at all. The fire might have been planned to escalate the tensions, but we don't have any evidence leading to our target."

Another thought strikes Dagon, one he knows is a long shot, but he decides to put it out there anyway. "Maybe, to create difficulty for us, he could've--"

"You're stretching too much, Dagon," Jackal cuts him off. "One step at a time. Until we have reason to believe otherwise, we're operating under the belief that our target does not know we're here or where we've infiltrated. Us, specifically. We can assume he expects more shinobi, since we've made it clear we're searching for him." He shakes his head. "We'll keep an eye on the situation, since it's on such a large scale. If our target is as powerful and influential as we think, it's likely he'll get involved at some point, but he's not necessarily in the thick of things already. That's the best we can do at our end, for now. Hopefully soon we'll come up with something more definite."

Dagon nods. "Yes, Captain." He gathers up their dinner trash, crumpling it up and tossing it in their kitchen wastebasket. He sits back down with a sigh. "What will we do now?" It's only just past sunset, and he's not tired at all. He doesn't relish the thought of staring at the dingy wallpaper for the next several hours.

Jackal shrugs. "I thought we'd scout around, maybe try to flush out some information on some of the major players in the area. Above-board and underground alike; you can usually find the recon in the same places for both."

"Sounds good to me," Dagon says, beginning to get out of his chair.

"Or we could have sex," Jackal says.

Dagon freezes, eyes narrowing instantly. Naturally, Iruka is almost always happy to have sex with Kakashi, but for Dagon and Jackal...the thought makes his heart do a strange sort of sideways-slicing beat that hurts his chest. A moment of searching Jackal's face, though, reveals that he isn't serious. Dagon's not sure if a little of Kakashi is peering through his ANBU mask, needling Iruka, or if Jackal is acting his part in a play that Dagon should know the lines for. He decides it doesn't matter. "Ha, ha," he says flatly.

Jackal's mouth quirks up, and Dagon can see Kakashi swimming underneath the surface for just an instant. Then he is gone, and Captain Jackal is up and grabbing jackets for them—even in early summer, the desert is chilly at night.

Dagon strides confidently to the door, smothering Iruka, who misses Kakashi terribly.


	10. Suffer the Children

**A/N: **This chapter gets a little gory. Just a warning, in case you're thinking of eating Taco Bell while you're reading this, like one of my betas. There's also man-sex, and heaps of inner turmoil. Yes, this chapter has all sorts of fun stuff. You should review it. Make me proud. 'Cause I know that's what you live for.

**Part 10: Suffer the Children**

The morning telepathic check-in reveals that, so far, recon for all three teams hasn't gotten very far. As expected, Schuldig is getting an idea of who the major players are in Kurocha from tuning in to people's random thoughts, but it's not an instant process. Hydra and Nagi have a few names to look into, and Jackal is planning on sneaking into records with Dagon to research the Director General and a few other Department of Security and Law Enforcement higher-ups. So, not very far along, but they're not stymied yet.

The only problem Dagon can see with the leads he and Jackal are pursuing is that Law Enforcement officials, even the extremely powerful Director General, do not make the kind of money that would be necessary to maintain a shinobi guerrilla army. Evidence suggests that many of them are crooked enough to gain substantial funds moonlighting in something like slave, drug or arms trafficking, but that sort of thing would be hard to track through official records. Nonetheless, Jackal remains confident that it's a solid enough starting point, and Dagon knows that Jackal might be able to put something together just from information that's omitted.

They spend the morning finessing the records people—Jackal with flirtation, guile and charisma, and Dagon with an affected stuttering disposition that he's found to be remarkably endearing to people, and a cheerful, open smile. Jackal does most of the reading, surreptitiously scanning the pages with his Sharingan so he doesn't forget anything. By midday, when their precinct captain comes looking for them, they've learned all they can about everyone who seems a likely candidate for being their target.

The precinct captain doesn't seem overly concerned that they've skipped patrol to, as Jackal puts it, brush up on departmental policies and procedures. Dagon suspects it's because she has a bit of a crush on Lieutenant Janak. He smiles vacantly in the background as the captain brushes up against Jackal more than strictly necessary, fingering his collar and once brushing a finger along his jaw. Jackal responds with silent invitation, his eye, lips and fingers suggestive even if his words are professional. Dagon ignores the slight tension in his own jaw.

When the encounter is finally over, they are instructed to join Vidya and Pavan once again, along with a few other officers, to patrol an area of the slums. Dagon quickly learns that 'patrol' is more a figure of speech than a duty, when talking about the slums. By and large, the officers don't care at all what goes on among the Dalits, and they're not about to soil their hands getting involved in any of it. To them, Dagon finds, it would be like asking the police to settle affairs between cockroaches: laughable.

Thus, instead of doing recon, Dagon ends up sitting at a poker table in a shabby portico on the edges of the tin-roofed shantytown. There is a rickety chain-link fence surrounding them on three sides, the one open side facing a dank alleyway leading to a decrepit laundromat. The Dalits seem to do their laundry in the river or in concrete reservoirs, from what Dagon can see, so he's not sure whom the laundromat is for.

The garbage is truly astounding. There are practically levees built up along the river made of nothing but discarded junk. It seems to pave the very streets. Children run and play on it as though it's nothing but grass and flowers. He wonders if any of these children have ever even seen grass and flowers. To them, the hills and valleys of trash are a playground of infinite possibility. It is amazing what people can consider normal, just by virtue of growing up with it.

The stench is acute and vile, but Dagon has long since just blocked off his awareness of his sense of smell. Taste is harder, but he's working on it.

As Iruka, he is not a good poker player, so Dagon decides Ravi is not a good poker player either. He's still not the worst player at the table; that honor goes to a cop Iruka recognizes as the one who checked out his ass in the locker room. The man doesn't seem to even recognize him, though. Iruka's not surprised; the man didn't spend much time looking at his face.

Janak rakes in chips by the armful, of course, much to Pavan's annoyance and Vidya's great amusement. The others don't seem to mind much, since they're not playing for real cash, and Janak lets them win a hand or two now and again so things don't get too boring. No one bothers them, and Dagon finds that he has to devote quite a bit of attention to not enjoying himself too much. It's relaxing, just sitting around a shaky card table with a bunch of colleagues, losing hand after hand and laughing about it, getting ribbed with varying degrees of profanity and raunchiness. It reminds him of games he used to play with his fellow Academy sensei.

He almost doesn't notice when the atmosphere changes.

It's obviously not perceptible to his colleagues, though he's certain Jackal notices it. It feels like the tension in the air before lightning strikes; hairs on the back of his neck are standing up. He keeps laughing, while subtly shifting so he can search the area more thoroughly. ::Captain, what's..?::

::I'm not sure,:: Jackal sends. He sounds a little stiff. ::Whatever it is, follow everyone's lead, okay?::

::Of course.::

It isn't long before Dagon notices the noise level in the east rising, the sound of shouting carrying through the polluted air. Then screams, getting closer. Dagon hears "Death to the Zorossi!" and then all hell breaks loose.

Suddenly there is a swarm of people surrounding their little cage, running here and there, wide, terrified eyes on almost everyone. Dagon notices that most of the people are women, several of them herding children. In the distance, Dagon sees many men come chasing around the corners after them. They are brandishing weapons, many of them makeshift, others obviously brought from elsewhere. They are clearly caught in the mob mentality, and their eyes have a peculiar brand of insane righteousness that reminds him of a word—_jihad_. Even so, their timing and chosen targets suggest cold strategy, attacking women and children at a time when most of the men are elsewhere, trying to scrape out a living.

It flashes through Dagon's mind that these are not shinobi, that these able-bodied women

_mothers sisters daughters_

are not combat-trained, these children are not genin. From what he understands of the Zorossi, the women of their faith opt for the old-fashioned conventions of keeping house, such as it may be in the slums, and raising children. They are not prepared to fend off angry mobs of men wielding two-by-fours, pipes, and machetes. In this instance, it's definitely up to the police to protect those people.

That flashes through his mind, but no one gets up. In fact, he seems to be the only one at their table that's paid any mind to the scene developing—in slow-motion, it seems—just a few meters away.

He is getting used to the feel of a rictus smile on his face as he sees a woman at the edge of his vision go down in a spray of blood.

"Man, Ravi, you grow up sheltered or something? First you get all squeamish about the shudderlings," Pavan says, poking him, "and now you're getting grossed out by some fucking gutter rats getting the beat-down? What the hell, man?"

"Like I said, I'm used to better hygiene," he hears himself say. "I don't like the mess."

Everyone at the table laughs amiably, including Jackal. Janak. Whoever he is. Dagon can hardly recognize him.

Two children appear from the fray, a little half-naked boy and a girl in a patched up yellow dress. They apparently don't know the score, because they both grab onto the chain-link separating them from the relaxing officers and scream, "Help us! You have to help us! Please!!!"

Vidya slams her beloved tonfa against the fence, smashing the little boy's fingers in the process. "Get out of here!" she snarls. "Move it! Damned little rats!"

The girl backs away as the boy doubles over in pain, and Dagon sees the man come up behind her, sees the two-by-four with the nails sticking out of it heading for her skull. It's slow; these are civilians, after all. He could have broken the man's hand in sixteen places in the time it's taken him to raise the board and begin his swing. He could shout a warning. He could leap over the fence and smash the man's face in.

He does nothing, smile still affixed on his lips, and watches as the board caves in the side of the little girl's head. He is still smiling as the man tries to pull the board free, and has to lower her to the ground and step on her neck to get the leverage to free the nails that have embedded in her skull. He smiles as the details burn themselves into his brain: the hair stuck on the wood, the greyish pink brain matter caught on the nails, the blood soaking into the rubbish-covered ground.

He feels a sharp pain in his leg, and dimly realizes that Jackal has pinched him under the table, hard. ::Don't lose focus,:: Jackal reminds him harshly.

"Heh, sorry," he says, realizing that it's been his turn at the game for a while. He's been playing badly all day, so no one will take any notice if he's distracted, he thinks. Though Vidya, Pavan and the others are all eyeing him more closely than he'd like. Eyeing _him_, and paying no attention to the carnage just beyond their isolating little fence.

Dagon fervently wishes that one of the mob would crash through that chain-link, into their sad little table, disrupt this hoax for even one minute, but of course that doesn't happen. The Bandu mob don't want the police involved any more than the police want to be involved. The Bandu are the ones with money and influence.

There really is an awful lot of blood. It might end up washing onto their raised portico, if this goes on.

Dagon is self-aware enough to realize that he might be drowning. He reaches deep into his soul bond for Jackal's icy blue anger, to crystallize and clarify his thoughts. He tries not to be desperate about it, to remain as calm as an ANBU should be, but he thinks he's failing.

Without meaning to, he sees another little child trying to escape the Bandu by crawling under a wall. Two men—men who in other circumstances might be fine, upstanding citizens of Kurocha—grab hold of its legs. One has a machete, that rises, and falls—once—twice—three times. The man picks up a little leg, cut off through the femur, and tosses it aside with the rest of the trash. Someone pulls the child from the other side of the wall, and the other man's hands slip in the blood on its remaining leg. Dagon knows the child will get no decent medical treatment, has almost no chance of surviving. He's almost glad.

He finds the anger. It rushes over him in a burst of needling cold, and his thoughts boil down to one.

He thinks, _I am going to kill everyone at this table. Including Jackal. Including me._

The thought is so clear and sharp, and seems so rational and reasonable, he can't think of anything else. He feels another pinch on his leg, but he notices it about as much as he'd notice an eyelash falling on his cheek. He makes a joke, reaching for his stash of kunai, and laughs, and it sounds clear and pleasant.

Just before he would have made his move, though, he sees a flash of white out of the corner of his eye, and looks up to see Jei standing amidst the butchery. Jei is holding two long, thin, rounded blades with prongs on either side—sai, he thinks with a slight jolt. They are bloody. Jei is bloody. Jei smiles, the scars across his mouth pulling his lips unevenly. He raises a blade to his mouth, slowly sticks his tongue out and snakes it along the metal from hilt to tip. Blood is dripping from his tongue when he finishes, and he leaves it out of his mouth for just a second, ghoulish, still smiling. Then he retracts the tongue, swallows the blood, and laughs. Dagon can't hear the laugh, but he can imagine it: gravelly, heady with murder.

Another second, and Jei is gone. Dagon doesn't know if he was really there, if it was a trick of Schuldig's, or if he was hallucinating, but the vision kills his bloodlust instantly. And without it, Dagon is falling away, into Iruka, and there's nothing he can do about it.

He knows he can muster up the willpower to either talk normally or look normal, but not both, not now. He has to make a decision quickly, and makes the only one he can, at the moment, before he loses all composure and falls apart.

He quickly makes hand seals under the table, using as little chakra as possible, which is still too much.

::Dagon!:: Jackal snaps.

::Sorry, Captain,:: Iruka sends helplessly. He finishes the henge. It's a simple one, just an illusion of his own face, normal, friendly, over the face that he's rapidly losing control of. Just in time, too; he can feel the tears spilling over as he channels all his focus into modulating his voice. Feeling like he's ripping out part of his soul, he turns his back on what remains of the massacre, because he just can't take any more.

He manages to get through the last few hands of poker without anyone becoming too suspicious of him, though they all poke fun at his 'twatty hygiene fixation', as Pavan christens it. The tears don't stop falling, though he manages to keep his voice even.

He doesn't notice much more than that for the rest of the afternoon, though he does notice that his ANBU captain is not at all pleased with him.

He finally drops the henge when they get to their apartment. He's certain he looks hungover and miserable, and hopes Jackal will let him off from doing recon tonight. There's not much hope of that, but he just can't find Dagon right now.

Jackal leans against the wall as he flops down on his mattress in the bedroom. Iruka puts his face in his hands for a moment, and then sits back up and meets his Captain's eye.

"So," Jackal says conversationally.

"So," Iruka sighs. He knows this is going to be unpleasant, and thinks that perhaps this is the worst day of his life. He hopes so. He hopes it's not going to get worse than this. He's been tortured and it wasn't as bad as this.

"What made you decide to suddenly take it upon yourself to use chakra and broadcast our location to anyone in the vicinity?"

"It was better than the alternative, which was to blow my cover and possibly yours as well, Captain."

"And for what possible reason would you have blown your cover?"

Deliberately obtuse. Iruka wants to punch Jackal more than just about anything in the world. "I'm afraid I am not yet able to be as aloof as an ANBU should be, sir."

"So, a situation that had nothing to do with our mission caused you to lose enough composure that you cast a henge and put us all at risk."

"Yes, sir." The ramifications are only hitting him now—if the enemy didn't know there were foreign ninja in town, and he happened to be monitored while using chakra, they'd go on the alert. Probably try to hide, possibly go on the offensive. Either way, they'd be that much harder to deal with. But what could he have done? Either he definitely blew their cover with the police, which might also lead to their being discovered by the target, or he possibly revealed his location by using chakra. His decision was a gamble, but it was the best he could have made under the circumstances.

However, he doesn't think it's his decision that Jackal is taking issue with, it's his inability to suppress his emotions to the degree that an ANBU is supposed to be capable of.

Iruka can't focus his thoughts enough to analyze the situation as clearly as he should; he figures that's just another aspect of his failure to be the emotionless android he ought to be. That Jackal clearly is.

"I am sorry, Captain," he continues after a moment. "I will endeavor to do better." Even as he says it, it seems hollow. He doesn't know how much 'better' he could be, given another situation like the one he experienced today.

"See that you do," Jackal says sharply. "I will not hesitate to relieve you of duty if you are unfit to carry out our mission."

The thought of being relieved of duty, however much it might spare his wounded heart and mind, is completely repugnant to Iruka. It's never happened before and it never will happen, if he can help it. But he knows his mind has not fully wrapped around what happened this afternoon—sitting and playing cards while a bloody riot claimed lives, children's lives, not three meters from him. He doesn't know what he'll think once that fully processes, if it ever does.

He looks into Jackal's dead shark-eye and can't stand it anymore. He knows what the answer will be, feels stupid for even asking, but tries, "Can I please speak to Kakashi?"

Jackal smiles, cruel and icy. "You expect comfort?"

Chills run down Iruka's spine, and he tries to reach for Dagon, but Dagon has left the building. "I just want to talk to him for a moment."

"What kind of ANBU goes running into their lover's arms when they've had a bad day? What kind of shinobi, for that matter? You deal with what you have to deal with at the end of the day, and you do it without anyone's help, Dagon. At least until the mission is complete. You know that."

Jackal is implacable, and nothing like Kakashi, and everything like him. Iruka grits his teeth. "I just want to talk to him," he quietly repeats, unable to think of anything else to say, futile though it may be.

His captain shakes his head, as though pitying, though Iruka knows better. Pitiless, merciless Jackal. "I am not here to be your comfort, and we are not here to save anyone except the Kazekage. Keep that foremost in your mind."

The captain turns on his heel and leaves the room, and Iruka stays sitting on the edge of his mattress, feeling more wretched than ever. His mind is racing but he can't catch any one thought, and he's restless but he feels like he can't move, can't do anything but sit in his room with its dingy peeling wallpaper and stained floor. He can't cry, can't scream, can't rage against ANBU and all of its varied atrocities that he will be expected to endure, that he can't even conceive of.

A knock at his door startles him. It's a soft knock, nothing like the brisk, business-like raps of Captain Jackal, and he looks up, faintly curious.

Kakashi is standing there. His partner, his lover, his friend. He can tell immediately from a thousand subtle signals, many that no one but he would be likely to know. He stares, mouth slightly gaping, unspeakable hope and relief flooding him.

"You wanted to see me?" Kakashi softly inquires.

"Kakashi--" Iruka's voice cracks, and he lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. The exhalation blows down what little self-control he had left, and before he even realizes he's moved, he's across the room, arms flung wildly around his partner and he is crying so hard, so silently, that his eyes and clenched jaw are already sore.

Kakashi doesn't push him away as Iruka half expects him to, just wraps his own arms loosely around Iruka and nuzzles his neck and face. That just makes Iruka cry harder, and he fists his hands hard in Kakashi's police uniform shirt, trying to get himself back to rights. What Jackal said about dealing with such events on one's own keeps running through his mind, and he feels guilty about pushing Kakashi to such a pass, about wanting his partner when so many ANBU have no partners, no one to take solace in. That's the way he's supposed to prefer it, but at the moment he can't imagine being able to be that removed, that divorced from himself.

In the back of his mind, he wonders if Kakashi is taking solace in him as well, but squashes the thought.

When Iruka has cried himself out, they sit on the edge of the mattress together. Jackal has been sleeping on the couch in their living room, leaving the bedroom for Iruka, but he hopes he can convince Kakashi to stay with him a while tonight. At least until he falls asleep, if such a thing is even going to be possible. "Sorry," he croaks, his voice hoarse even though he refused to indulge in noisy lamenting.

Kakashi shakes his head, running his hands continuously through Iruka's hair.

"I didn't mean to push you," Iruka continues. "I know I should deal with this on my own, like you said, but..."

Shaking his head more firmly, Kakashi says, "Forget it."

Iruka looks over to meet his eye. "I can't forget it. You're my captain."

"Jackal is your captain," Kakashi almost growls. "Me, I'm telling you to forget it."

Iruka chuckles with a tired edge of hysteria. "I don't make much of an ANBU, do I."

Kakashi continues to run his hands through Iruka's hair, asking, "What do you think makes a good ANBU, Iruka?"

Iruka looks over at him, surprised. "Well...you, for instance. Sai, too. I'm not sure about Jei and Schuldig, but they seem to have their own unique reality concepts that set them apart from the rest of humanity. I guess good ANBU can set themselves apart that way, no matter the circumstances."

Kakashi nods thoughtfully. "And you think new ANBU recruits all just start out with that ability?"

Iruka shrugs. "The good ones."

A bark of laughter. "Let me tell you something, Iruka. It takes years of conditioning to be as...separated from one's humanity as Sai and I can be. I got a very early start, and so did Sai. From what little I could dig up of Jei, Nagi, and Schu, while we were in Suna, those three had the most fucked-up upbringing of any of us—Orochimaru-style genetic experiments, just on a different continent, different organization—so it's no wonder they're on a separate plane of existence now. You, on the other hand, are more normal. You're old for a new ANBU, but your emotional turmoil is perfectly normal. How you dealt with it is what sets you apart."

Iruka's brow furrows. That almost sounded like a compliment. "How so?"

Kakashi's hands finally come to rest on Iruka's shoulders. "You could have lost your shit and blown our cover completely. You could have decided the mission wasn't as important as saving those strangers, also totally blowing our cover. You could have crippled yourself by trying to keep all your emotions in check, even though you haven't had sufficient conditioning to be capable of that. You could have forced a denial state, which many ANBU do effectively when they encounter something traumatizing, and is another way of crippling yourself because that always, eventually, breaks down. But you were able to prevent yourself from extreme hysteria--"

"I think Schuldig might have had something to do with that," Iruka mutters.

"Whether he did or not, you were the only one capable of restraining yourself from violence."

Iruka is ashamed. He'd had even less control over himself than he'd thought. "You could tell I was getting violent?"

Kakashi smiles crookedly. "I could feel it, just a little, through our bond. I also heard you thinking that you were going to kill us all. I think a part of you must have wanted me to hear it, and projected it. A cry for help, maybe. Or maybe you just wanted me to know you wanted me dead."

Iruka twists sharply to face his partner. "I didn't want you dead. Not _you_, Kakashi."

Shrugging, Kakashi says, "I know Jackal is like a different person, but it's still essentially me, Iruka. It wasn't so many years ago that you couldn't tell the difference between us."

Iruka manfully refrains from rolling his eyes. "I know that. I don't want myself dead either, but you'll recall I thought I would include me in my rain of destruction."

"Yes, I didn't like that much. If you'd really gone over that far, Iruka, I would have stopped you, you know."

"I know."

"But we're getting away from my point, which was that you didn't go out of your mind with rage or withdraw from reality, or anything like that. You analyzed the situation and made a calculated risk. Something that might not have even occurred to me, I might add, but was effective. It probably didn't use enough chakra to put us on anyone's radar, although we can't be sure of that, of course. It was simple, creative, and was enough to put our police comrades off your scent."

Iruka sighs heavily. "Be that as it may, I still feel like I have a long way to go before I can show the dispassionate face you showed, during a situation like that. I don't even _want_ to be capable of that, but if Konoha needs me..." He shrugs.

"Just remember that even though Jackal can show that face, can feel nothing, _I_ feel everything," Kakashi says grimly. "It's like having an emotionless kage bunshin; as soon as I banish him, all my experiences come back to haunt me, and I have to have feelings about them. It's why I was so reluctant to send Jackal away and come to you," he finishes in a whisper, as though it's a secret.

Iruka puts his hands on Kakashi's face. "I'm sorry," he whispers back earnestly. "I'm really sorry."

Kakashi covers his hands with his own. "Stop apologizing. You did well. Maybe too well."

"I don't understand."

"Hmm," Kakashi hums, pulling Iruka's hands from his face and turning slightly away. "The sort of ANBU you keep describing as being a good ANBU, a person who is truly as emotionless as a person can be, and focuses on the mission and nothing else—that sort of person makes an excellent soldier, it's true. A good grunt, and nothing more. They can't be entrusted with responsibility for anyone but themselves, and they might be technically adaptable but they aren't able to adjust for external factors very well because of their narrow focus. Someone like you, Iruka, who can keep themselves under control despite a severe emotional upheaval, who can act on educated guesses and calculated risks, who has a broader scope than the mission despite an ingrained imperative to complete it..." Kakashi bows his head. "You have the qualities Ibiki looks for in a captain, Iruka."

Iruka can feel his jaw drop, as if there's a weight attached to it.

"I _don't want_ you to be an ANBU captain, Iruka," Kakashi hisses. "I know that's what it will come to. I knew as soon as you were appointed, because I know you. Having you as a subordinate is bad enough. If you become a captain..." He throws his hands up. "You'll change. You'll have no choice. I don't know who you'll become. I'll love you regardless, but I don't want you to change in the ways I think you will, the ways I've seen other captains change. Today was bad, Iruka, but there are worse things out there. Far worse. Imagine being in my position on a day like today, with a new recruit sitting across the table from you, maybe one that couldn't control themselves so well. Do you think you could be in charge of that situation without being very different from who you are now?"

Iruka sits in silence for a moment, thinking, trying to absorb what his partner is saying. "I don't know," he says truthfully. "Maybe not. But Kakashi, it's only my first mission as an ANBU. Even if what you say is true and not skewed by some sort of weird bias, I'm not a contender for captaincy at the moment. There's no sense getting so far ahead of yourself."

"You're more mature and have more experience than most new recruits," Kakashi continues. "He'll want to harvest you as soon as he can; probably will throw you into all sorts of situations that will make you question every belief and moral you've ever held dear. If I can stop him, I will. I have some influence with him, but not as much as I used to have, and hardly any at all when it comes to you. Still, I—"

"Kakashi, stop," Iruka cuts in. "Please, stop thinking about all of this right now. We have enough to deal with as it is, don't you think?"

A shaky sigh, and a chuckle. Kakashi rubs his temples with his thumbs. "Yeah, we do, but I don't know if I can shut my mind off on this subject. I can shut up about it, though."

"I suppose that will have to do." Though, in the silence after Kakashi finishes speaking, Iruka regrets telling him to stop. As long as his partner is spouting crazy theories, he doesn't have to think about today. He wants Kakashi to start talking again, but he can't think of anything to say, himself.

Kakashi reaches for Iruka's hand, lacing their fingers together. After a few minutes of silence, he finally says, "I'm glad you can separate us. Me and Jackal, that is."

Iruka smiles. "It's pretty easy, really. You've perfected the art of voluntary multiple personalities." He pauses. "Do you separate me and Dagon?"

"Well," Kakashi replies, squeezing Iruka's hand, "Dagon hasn't taken on his own life, yet. Not really. It will take time."

"Mm," Iruka concedes. "Kakashi?"

"Yes?"

"While you're here visiting me, can we fuck?"

"I was just about to ask you," Kakashi says, reaching over for the buttons on Iruka's shirt. "I wasn't sure you'd be in the mood."

Iruka ducks his head down and bites Kakashi's thumb, flicking his tongue along it. "I wouldn't say I'm in the mood, so much as I need stimuli that's stronger than my memory, just now."

"Ah." Kakashi leans over and kisses Iruka's cheek, nibbles hungrily on his neck. "Just what every guy wants to hear," he murmurs as he finishes unbuttoning Iruka's shirt, pulling it off and yanking the attendant undershirt over Iruka's head, tossing both onto the floor. The undershirt hits a roach, which skitters across the room and into a floor vent.

Iruka reaches for Kakashi's buttons, but can't get a grip on them since his partner is ducking forward to lick his collarbones, one arm snaked around his middle and the other hand pinching and tugging his nipple. For a second an image of Jackal frowning at him over the card table surfaces in his mind, and he almost pushes Kakashi away. But Kakashi's blunt fingernails scrape over his belly, the way only Kakashi knows makes him hot, and Kakashi whispers, "Want you so much, baby," dark and low in a voice Iruka knows no one else gets to hear, and Iruka is suddenly so flooded with lust that he feels like his skin is burning off.

He tears at Kakashi's shirt, buttons flying onto the floor and the rumpled, untucked sheets on the mattress, vaguely thinking that he'll sew them back on in the morning. He pushes his mouth on Kakashi's, smearing his lips open as wide as he can, forcing his tongue inside and clacking their teeth together. His hands reach for Kakashi's hair, closing on almost nothing because it's cut so short now. That frustrates him, and he growls, shoving his partner onto his back and straddling him.

Iruka scoots down just far enough that he can reach the fastenings of Kakashi's pants, and undoes them while Kakashi pulls off his own undershirt. Kakashi yanks him forward, crushing their chests and mouths together, kissing like a frontal assault. Iruka remembers that his boots are still on, and pulls away impatiently, rolling off his partner and tugging them off in a hurry. His progress is impeded by Kakashi, who latches onto Iruka's middle and mouths his ear, hugging him tightly. Even so, Iruka manages to get his own pants off too, and, naked, turns to his partner, biting at Kakashi's shoulder and shoving his pants down over his hips.

Kakashi starts to roll Iruka onto his back, but Iruka fears Kakashi's going to go slower than he needs him to, is going to take his time, and Iruka can't bear that right now. He's frantic with need, so he shoves Kakashi over and crawls on top of him, pressing their cocks together with a hiss and wrapping his hands around them both. He strokes just long enough to get them fully erect, and to coax a bit of slickness from Kakashi. His partner seems to understand that Iruka needs the control, and just props himself on an elbow, watching, other hand stroking Iruka's shoulder and the back of his neck.

Without further ado, Iruka gets up on his knees, spreads his asscheeks with one hand and positions Kakashi's dick with the other. He sits down slowly, forcing Kakashi inside of him even though it's more painful than usual. Kakashi steadies him, looking up at him with a concerned eye, but doesn't try to stop him, and Iruka's grateful.

He grimaces as he works his way down, but the pain doesn't really register as anything more than a minor annoyance, about as much as a mosquito bite. As his muscles loosen he breathes out shakily, sliding down far enough that he can feel Kakashi's testicles against his ass. He sits there for a moment, breathing deeply and feeling immensely relieved. Kakashi is with him, united with his body, and no matter what horrible things have happened, there is at least this.

A few moments pass as he tries to absorb the feeling, but Kakashi gets impatient and rolls him roughly onto his back, hauling one of Iruka's ankles up over his shoulder and putting his arm under the knee of the other leg. He kisses Iruka hard, teeth mashing into lips as Kakashi begins plunging into him over and over. It still burns a little, but it feels really good, and Iruka claws at Kakashi's back and head, kissing him over and over.

The dark sea begins to encroach on them. It's usually something Iruka looks forward to, but not right now. He doesn't want the insubstantial sea, with its strange hallucinations. He doesn't care if it would enhance their experience, or how good it would feel. "Keep...keep it away," he pants into Kakashi's ear.

Kakashi stops moving, and it's almost unbearable. Iruka squirms impatiently as Kakashi tries to focus on his face. "Keep what away, baby?"

"The sea," Iruka replies, pushing his ass against Kakashi. "The sea, keep it away. I just want you; I don't want anything else."

Kakashi's hips thrust a little, restlessly. "We've never had sex all the way through without it," he muses. "I don't know if we can."

"It only does what we want it to, right?" Iruka latches on to Kakashi's rear with both hands, pressing a heel against it as well, and writhing, squeezing muscles until Kakashi's eyes roll back in his head a little. "I want it to stay away. I just want to be with you, Kakashi."

Kakashi groans helplessly, hips already moving harder and faster, almost at his former tempo. "As you wish," he moans, kissing the shin of the leg that's still over his shoulder.

The sea gently recedes.

Their pace grows frantic very quickly. Iruka can't remember feeling so needy, so desperate for his partner before. In a blur, he wraps his hand around his dick, jacking himself with frenetic, slapdash little strokes. His other hand is tight around Kakashi's bicep, his eyes on Kakashi's clenched, bared teeth and almost-closed eye. He lets go of Kakashi's arm to pull off the eyepatch, looking into the Sharingan and almost losing himself in it as it lazily spins. He doesn't fear it, though he probably should.

Kakashi lets him look for a few moments, then closes both his eyes and surges hard into Iruka, latching onto Iruka's neck with his teeth, biting hard and groaning as he comes. Iruka doesn't want to follow him, wants to stay at this barely-aware threshold of pain-laced pleasure, but he can't, he's too far gone. He spills against Kakashi's stomach and his own hand, feeling come splatter onto his own belly as well. He feels the orgasm through his whole body like a soft explosion of red, red fire, flames of blood and stars.

When he comes back to himself he is crying again, as silently as before, and Kakashi is cradling him, whispering apology after apology.

"It's not you; you didn't do anything," Iruka manages.

"I know. I did nothing. I'm sorry."

Iruka finally realizes that Kakashi is crying as well, and feels an unendurable welling of gratitude and sorrow.


	11. Bosom Friends

**A/N: **Sorry this took so long; the chapters are coming in drips and drabs instead of a flood, or even a trickle. But they're still coming, at least. I hope you enjoy this.

Rainbows and rain barrels to the betas, of which I actually had four this time—**bronzetigress, kita_the_spaz, venusian_eye ** and **cjandre.**

**Part 11: Bosom friends**

Three days later, Iruka has the afternoon off from the station, and he spends it doing recon on the streets. He's woolgathering more than observing, though, thinking about the riots again. No one at the police station is even talking about the riots anymore. The damage was mostly in the slums, but Zorossi are not solely Dalits, and two temples in more affluent parts of town were assaulted by the Bandu. The temples were not completely destroyed as the Bandu temple was, but the damage toll overall—including body count—was far, far greater for the Zorossi.

What gets Iruka's blood up is the complete lack of concern by any public figure associated with the police department over the officers' apparent complicity in the Bandu rioting, which is still persisting in pockets around the city. Iruka's patrol was not the only one that encountered rioting that first day, and they were not the only ones who stood by and did nothing. Iruka is not surprised that the only police who actually get involved in trying to control the rioting are in the wealthier parts of town. There are often police in full riot gear in places where there is no rioting at all. And yet, apart from one small circular read almost exclusively by Zorossi, no one is up in arms; there aren't going to be any upheavals, or even trials. The Director General refers to the rioting as 'a lamentable example of extremism' and promises—emptily, Iruka suspects—that 'steps will be taken to ensure such violence is kept under control in the future.' All in all, it seems like the incidents of this week will all be swept under the rug, and there isn't a thing Iruka can do about it.

The aftermath has left Iruka feeling very sullen and rebellious. Childish, almost, though he continues to try to keep his mind on his mission. Jackal was back before Iruka even woke up the morning after the riots; Iruka is still disgusted with him. He's disgusted with Dagon, and with ANBU as well, with the whole mindset that forced him to sit by and watch such a horrible scene as though it was a movie. He hasn't even tried to call Dagon up since the riots, though Schuldig and Hydra have repeatedly warned him that leaving himself vulnerable—not putting on the mask, so to speak—is a bad idea. He agrees in a way, and he doesn't intend to fail this mission; he's still determined to be the best ANBU he can be, but...he just needs time. Time he doesn't really have, since he's on the job already, but since there is nothing imperative going on, he makes the time. If something happens, he will force himself into Dagon, but until then, Iruka's taking the opportunity to adjust.

If he's honest with himself, it's not his disgust with Dagon that keeps him from assuming that alter ego. Iruka feels fragmented, fragile as glass. He's not sure what would happen if the glass shattered, and he doesn't want to find out, for the sake of the mission and otherwise. It's only his connection with Kakashi, through the bond and through their bodies, that makes him feel remotely sane. He's always thought of sex as restorative, and having sex with Kakashi glued at least some of the fragments back together. If he calls on Dagon, who is—at least theoretically—unconnected, he'll lose what little is keeping Iruka together. The results of that would be a psychological experiment he's not interested in implementing.

Kakashi, genius that he is, would understand all of that. Jackal perhaps understands as well, which is why he hasn't pushed Iruka to summon up Dagon. At least, Iruka hopes that's why. Jackal, cold and unforthcoming as ever, would never discuss it with him. He just maintains an air of professional disdain, and Iruka can almost hear him tapping his foot with impatience as Iruka struggles to pull it all together. At least Jackal seems to understand that forceful, outspoken censure would not be helpful in this case. Iruka is grateful for the window, but he knows it won't last.

Not for the first time, and certainly not the last, he wishes he could talk to Sandaime. The old man always seemed to know just what to say to get Iruka to the place he needed to be, wherever it was. Now, without even Kakashi to talk to, he feels rudderless. He considers talking to Hydra or Schuldig about his thoughts, just to try and sort them out, but he doesn't feel comfortable enough with either of them. Not with something this personal, anyway.

As far as the mission goes, they've got a few suspects: the Director General, a local mafioso named Mohinder Takatori, a foreign arms dealer named David Quinto and one of the Wind Daimyo's ambassadors, Nasu Yuuko. Iruka and Jackal are investigating the Director General, since he's the head of all Kurocha's security and they already have an in. Nagi and Hydra are looking into Takatori and Nasu, since they have each danced for at least one of them already and can track them easily. Schuldig and Jei are looking into David Quinto, who is proving to be the most elusive of their possible targets.

Jackal has his doubts that their target is actually included in their short list of suspects, though. The technologies that the guerrilla forces sport are very advanced, very expensive, and would need a lot of time and possibly a lot of manpower to duplicate. He can't think of a reason the Director General would commission that kind of hardware if he wasn't going to use it openly; he can't see why Takatori and Quinto would commission the hardware if they weren't going to sell it, which they have not, according to their sources. He can't see what possible use Nasu Yuuko would have for that sort of technology, unless—again—she was going to sell it somehow. There's definitely a market for the glass chakra-masking cloaking device, at the very least, but it hasn't appeared in any markets, open, governmental or black.

Not only that, but their suspects' ties to Sunagakure are tenuous at best, and nonexistent—as far as they can tell—at worst. The Director General displays a thin veneer of deference toward Gaara, poorly masking a deep-running contempt which seems to be more historically based than personally or politically. Kurocha's Director Generals have flouted the Kazekage in the past, never openly, but through subterfuge and sowing dissension. It is very unlikely they would take a course of action directly against Suna, even if it is guerrilla. Iruka has been too distracted to pay attention to the particulars of the history of politics in Kurocha, a subject he'd normally be fascinated by, which has him in an even worse mood.

Just to put icing on his cheer-deficient cake, Jackal has taken their precinct captain out to a late-afternoon dinner in an effort to wrangle info about the Director General from her. The Director General is a second-cousin of hers, and in Kurocha that's practically immediate family, so she's a decent source. Jackal might sleep with her to get the information, and Iruka doesn't think that would really hurt—everyone he knows, including himself, has had sex for a mission at one time or another—but he doesn't appreciate the notion. He doesn't think it's likely that the precinct captain will fall in love with Lieutenant Janak; she doesn't seem like that kind of woman. But sometimes people get more involved than they mean to. He's not particularly fond of the precinct captain, but he doesn't want her to be hurt, either.

At least he doesn't have to worry about Lieutenant Janak getting too involved, he thinks wryly.

He looks up from where he's aimlessly wandering the streets, watching some pigeons flocking by overhead. Someone ahead of him gets pigeon poop on their arm, and stealthily wipes it on a passer-by. That makes him smile in spite of himself, reminding him a little of Naruto.

He smiles a little wider, his heart hurting a bit as he reminds himself what Naruto would have done in his place, if he had been at the riots: of course, he would not have let a single person die. He would have charged in like the blazing sun, without worrying about cover, and saved everyone. He probably would have made a speech that would have had the Bandu and the Zorossi putting aside their age-old feuds and hugging each other by the end of it. When confronted with the fact that their cover was completely blown, it wouldn't have bothered him. He would have charged full-steam ahead, tearing apart buildings and finding strange friends in weird places who would eventually lead him right to the instigator of all their troubles, and then somehow render him unable to cause any more mischief without actually killing him.

Iruka shakes his head. Things only seem to work like that for Naruto. If anyone else tried something like that...well, people have, Iruka knows. They're all dead now.

Even so...even so, he wishes he could follow Naruto's example more than he did three days ago. He wishes he could be the sun, sometimes, lighting up the darkness the way that kid always does. He doesn't feel anything like the sun right now; he feels more like a cornered skunk, like anything he does to extricate himself from this trapped feeling is going to stink.

Looking up, he happens to see a group of young kids in an alleyway not too far away—he thinks they're Dalits. From the looks of it, they're being tormented by a couple of adult men, one of whom appears to be holding a dead cat. He can't tell if the adults are Dalits or not. He can't really tell what's going on, but he can tell the kids are scared, and the men are gesturing with increasing violence.

::Fuck it,:: he thinks, ::I'm not on duty.:: Even if he had been on duty, he doesn't think he'd be able to stand idly by once again while someone got hurt, not without Dagon. But as he begins making his way through the sparse crowd to get to the alley, he sees a man go into the alleyway and start to talk with the men. He can't quite see—the alley is dim—but he thinks some money changes hands. Not knowing what that implies, he hurries, but by the time he gets to the alley the two men are walking off, and the new stranger is bending over to speak to the kids, one of whom—a little girl—is crying.

He can't quite read the situation, so he hides himself behind an overflowing dumpster—apparently there _is_ a garbage collection system in town, one just has to be able to afford it. He tunes out the rest of the world as well as he can, so he can hear what the stranger is telling the children.

"--I'm sure he didn't mean to kill the poor beast, but of course to blame the animal for getting in his way and demanding compensation from you for his dented bicycle is preposterous," the man is saying, apparently trying to comfort the crying girl, who is holding the dead cat now. "Oh, there, there, don't take on so. I dare say that cat's in a far better place now, though that's not saying much—oh, dear, I'm afraid I'm not such great shakes with children...er, would you like a sweet?" The man reaches into his pocket and pulls out four golden foil-wrapped candies, which the children look at with astonishment. "Go on, help yourselves. I've had too many as it is, as you can see," he says, patting a belly which, while not fat, is certainly not ninja-flat.

Cautiously, as though they expect the stranger's hand has a bear trap attached to it, they all reach forward and take a candy.

"There you are, there you are," says the man, straightening up. "I suppose you'd best run along, now," and Iruka hears him mutter, though the children don't seem to hear, "not as though you've anyplace to be, but there it is."

The Dalit children look at each other, and then look at the stranger with wide, uncertain eyes. Then, as one, they turn and run down the alley with the air of frightened deer and disappear.

Iruka is bemused by this man's behavior, and more than a little suspicious. He comes out from hiding with a bright smile and approaches him. "That was so nice, what you just did."

The man startles, turning to face him, and Iruka takes a good look at him: mid-fifties, by the weathering of his face, with messy, shoulder-length, white hair and rumpled, rough cotton clothing. His shirt is light blue, an uncommon color for the adults of the area since it is considered childish. He moves with a slight limp, and his expression is friendly and unguarded, even with someone he doesn't know approaching him. If the strange accent and manner of speaking weren't enough, that alone would reveal him as a foreigner.

"Oh, well, had to be done, really. Where I come from...well. But I'm surprised you would say so, being from around here?" His tone indicates he's already aware that Iruka isn't a local.

"I'm a relative newcomer to this area myself," Iruka replies, knowing he's skirting dangerous territory.

"I thought so, yes. Otherwise you wouldn't care about a few Dalits, would you?" the man says wryly.

"I care about children," Iruka firmly replies. "I don't care who they are, even though--" He cuts himself off, wondering why he's come so close to confiding in this man. He needs to watch himself. "I'm Ravi," he tries, bowing slightly.

"Philip," says the man, stepping forward and holding out a hand. Iruka reaches for it tentatively, and is caught in a very firm grip, his hand shaken three times vigorously and released. "Pleased to meet someone who actually _sees_ these untouchables. I had given up all hope of humanity in this god-forsaken city."

"Well, I'm not usually allowed to have humanity," Iruka admits. "I'm with the police."

Philip laughs, though Iruka isn't joking. "I hear you, my friend," he chuckles. "There are times and places for everything. One can't hope to overturn the caste system just by virtue of one's good nature, after all."

"Is it your hope to overturn the caste system?" Iruka asks, curious.

Philip sighs. "I hope it's abolished, but I really have no hope of doing it myself. Just one man, and all that. I do what I can, when I can. And let me tell you, it doesn't always turn out as well as it did today. I've had more than my fair share of injuries inflicted by degenerate fists and my own self-righteousness." He makes a half-turn. "But why should we talk in a filthy alleyway like this? Let us sojourn to a rooftop. The air won't be much fresher, but one can see the sky, at least."

Iruka feels like he ought to refuse, to go on his merry way and forget about this incident, concentrate on recon. But he just can't walk away. The alluring promise of genuine warmth is too much, like a drug he's just quit recently.

He follows Philip up a hidden stairwell onto a third-story rooftop; he thinks it's over a storefront but he isn't certain. Philip's right; the air is no fresher, but it is relatively quiet and he feels slightly more peaceable.

"There we are," says Philip, "right as rain. I have equated altitude with peace of mind ever since I moved to Kurocha. People tend to congregate on the ground, you see. I don't know why, since it's so much more serene at a height. Serenity doesn't count for as much as it should, I'm afraid."

"How long have you lived here? I almost thought you were a tourist," Iruka admits.

"I strive to keep my tourist persona intact, actually," replies Philip. "I'd rather not be taken for a local, if I can help it. I have more leeway that way; people forgive me my liberal foreign ways. You...it's hard to tell if you're local or not. You might be forgiven for showing compassion to the untouchables, and you might not. If that's something you want to think about, you might try for a more foreign look, more foreign ways about you."

"It's an option," Iruka surmises, even though he knows it isn't.

"So...you're a police officer, I got that. But what do you _do_?" asks Philip, as though the two are mutually exclusive.

Which they are, of course, but Iruka isn't about to admit that. "Do?" he asks, feigning cluelessness. "I am my job, pretty much."

"And that is just grievous," replies Philip. "Grievous and heinous. An old soul like you? You must have an outlet of some kind, to relieve the day-to-day sameness of paperwork, patrol, ticket and arrest."

"Well...what do you do, Philip?" he asks, hoping for a little misdirection.

"I? I am a glass-blower and metaphysical theologist, in my spare time," Philip announces, as though that should make perfect sense. "When I'm clocked in...well, let's just say I'm a research analyst. It may not be glamorous, but it pays the bills."

"A...theologian?"

"Theologist, young lad. It's a word when I say it. As Humpty Dumpty said to Alice, 'Impenetrability!'"

Iruka is certain they're speaking the same language, but he can't follow the conversation. "I'm...I don't understand."

"Ah, quite alright. I suppose it's far too obscure a reference, especially around here. As long as one of us knows what I'm blathering on about, we can have a half-decent conversation." Philip gazes up at the sun, a breeze blowing his hair about wildly, giving him a distinctly mentally unbalanced look. It's amusing rather than disturbing, though.

"What is a metaphysical theologist?" Iruka asks.

"Well, there are many ways one could define it. As you're young and probably ill-inclined to listen to an old man rambling on about cosmology, epistemology and the fundamental nature of the gods, I'll give you the short version. My own area of specialty is the divinity of the soul."

"Divinity? You believe every soul is divine?"

"I do believe that, yes. Souls are immortal, my friend, and immortality is an aspect of divinity. Not to say that every person on Earth is a god, but our souls are inextricable from the gods. Apart and a part, if you take my meaning." He leans close to Iruka, as though imparting a great secret. "I'm not just waxing philosophical, my friend; I have seen irrefutable proof of this."

Iruka raises a brow. He's beginning to think the image of this man as unbalanced might not be far off the mark. "You've seen gods and souls."

"It takes very specialized equipment, but yes, I have. I hear certain ninjas are capable of similar feats, so it's not so daft an idea, is it?"

Pursing his lips, Iruka considers. He supposes the only reason the idea sounded weird was because it came from a civilian. "I suppose it's not out of the realm of possibility, though I've never heard of a ninja that could see gods." Even as he says that, he remembers a rumor that the shinigami are visible to anyone who can perform the jutsu to call them. But since summoning a shinigami means death to the summoner, he doesn't know if it's true.

"They're all linked—gods, souls, life force, chakra. Inextricable, as I said, but the possibilities for such wonderful manipulations exist! And ninja, who are perhaps more closely linked to divinity than any other human, waste all that potential focusing on fighting each other and creating new ways to blow each other up." Philip shakes his head. "Tragic, simply tragic. I abhor wasted potential more than anything." He turns on Iruka, eyes twinkling. "Which is why I must express disbelief that you are nothing more than your job, young man, especially if you are an officer of the law. I don't sense the affliction of wasted potential in you. I flatter myself that I'm rather a good judge of character, and if I had to venture a guess, I would say you're the sort of man who strives to be all he can be." Philip raises a bushy brow, as though challenging Iruka to say otherwise.

Iruka laughs and scratches the back of his neck. "You've taken my measure, though I don't know what basis you could possibly have for saying that."

Philip chuckles and pats Iruka's arm. "When you've seen as much as I have, Ravi my lad, you can draw accurate conclusions surprisingly quickly. I should like very much to show you some of what I have seen sometime, if the fates are kind and we should encounter one another again. The labs where I do my research hold many fascinating secrets, if one knows where to look."

"I would enjoy that as well," Iruka says, "but in such a large city, I'm afraid the fates are against us."

"Nonsense," Philip scoffs. "The larger the city, the smaller the world, I find. You'd be astonished how often, even in a city of ten million or more, you run into the same people again and again. You must have arrived here quite recently if you have not observed this phenomenon yet. You'll see."

Iruka decides that must be his cue to leave—he really needs to get on with his recon—though he feels surprisingly reluctant to break off their conversation. He's grown quite fond of Philip over the course of their discourse. "I hope you are right," he says, bowing slightly. "I've really enjoyed speaking with you, but I'm afraid I must be going."

"No leisure to spend all evening listening to the carrying-on of an old fool? How surprising." Philip laughs, the sound reminiscent of water falling onto stones. "Thank you for indulging me in a chat, Ravi. Usually I find it difficult to truly speak my mind to a stranger, but I feel we might be kindred spirits in more ways than one, my friend."

Iruka feels his lips stretching into a more genuine smile than he's sported since before arriving in Kurocha. "I don't know, Philip. Are you a workaholic?"

"If by workaholic you mean obsessive about my work, I am indeed, whether it pays or not," Philip replies. "And yourself?"

"I run myself ragged as well, I'm afraid."

"And we both have a soft spot for the little ones."

Iruka shakes his head sadly with a chuckle. "You could say that."

"Do your tea preferences lie with rooibos, green, black or white?"

"Such a loaded question," Iruka says. "Where I come from, the tradition is green, but I really prefer black. There are a lot of interesting varieties of black tea for sale around here, I've found."

"That settles it," Philip says, thrusting a fist up to the sky. "We're like two halves of the same coin. Earl Grey over Bancha any day of the week, yes?"

"I'm not familiar with Earl Grey," Iruka responds thoughtfully. "Ceylon and Assam are favorites of mine."

"Well, if you like those, I'm certain you'd like Earl Grey. They sell it at the tea and crystal shop over on 146th Avenue; are you familiar with the place?"

Iruka and Kakashi have passed the very shop Philip is talking about several times on their patrols and recon expeditions. "I am. I'll look for it."

"Make sure to take it with lemon and sugar, or just lemon, if you're not a sweet-lover like myself."

Iruka chuckles. "Actually, I do like sweet things."

"Aha! The evidence is piling up, officer. Isn't it odd, how out of millions of people, two with such similar tastes and dispositions should find each other in a dismal alleyway? I'm inclined to believe it's Providence, if such a thing exists."

"If?" Iruka chuckles. "You've seen gods and souls, but not Providence?"

"Oho, you're teasing me now, are you? Providence is a wily creature, you know, and near-impossible to catch whether she strikes like a lightning bolt or creeps in like fog. If she can be seen, these eyes will see her, you can count on that, Ravi!" Philip is smiling, but there's a manic glint in his eye that makes Iruka think he's only half-joking.

"I have no doubt," he answers, and is pleased when it sounds earnest.

"And now that the evening is getting late and the night is young, you no doubt have places to go, joy and cheer to spread about the city, what. Didn't you say you had to go just a few minutes ago?"

Iruka laughs, the feeling light and pleasurable in his chest. "I did, and I do, but you've been distracting company. In a very good way."

Philip leans on the wall that runs along the edge of the roof. "And without invoking the overtones of pederasty, I will return the sentiment. Not that you're not a fine looking specimen of manhood, but I'm rather astonishingly attracted to women, believe it or not."

Blinking, Iruka says, "I would never have suggested otherwise." He wonders if Philip has somehow picked up on his bisexuality. He can't imagine how he would have given himself away.

"You'd be surprised how often people do suggest otherwise," Philip says, sneering a little. "It's this color, I think," he says, motioning to his shirt. "It's my favorite, but it's not often worn around here. That and the apparent penchant older foreign men have for young boys. They're almost as pretty as the girls, around these parts, really. I suppose one wouldn't necessarily have to be a proponent of Greek love to proposition one."

"I expect you're right," Iruka says, wondering how in the world they got on to this topic.

"Well! Now that I've obviously made you quite uncomfortable, I shall give your hand a proper shake and bid you adieu, my friend!" Philip steps forward and grabs one of Iruka's hands, pumping it just as vigorously as before. "I truly hope Providence dictates that we shall run into one another again, hopefully when we have leisure to enjoy a cup of tea and read the migration patterns of the local pedestrians together."

Iruka squeezes Philip's hand once and lets go, smiling at the thought of the memories he will have of this odd encounter. He doesn't believe for a second that he'll see this man again, which is probably why he's let the conversation extend as long as it has. It feels nice to think that he might have a friend in this awful city. He decides, as long as they're never going to meet again, that he might as well voice this sentiment. "We'll say we each have another friend in the city, then?"

"Naturally, my boy! Friend of my bosom you are, and no less!" He winks, chortling.

Iruka smiles and waves, and then walks to the stairs, descending them without looking back.

*-*-*-*

Footsore and tired, but still in a relatively good mood, Iruka comes home to the apartment and throws himself down on the couch that serves as Jackal's bed. He's enjoying being Iruka at the moment, but he knows he needs to pull himself together and start focusing his attention on being Dagon again soon.

With someone like Philip somewhere in the city, someone who seems oblivious, wise and good-natured all at once, he's far more inclined to try to be Dagon. If there's good in the world somewhere else nearby, he feels better about shutting himself off from it. Perhaps it's self-centered of him, or arrogant, to think of himself—Iruka, not Dagon—as being a force for good, but he can't help but think so. He doesn't know about Kurocha, but he doesn't know of anyone in Konoha who would disagree with that.

He doesn't know if Dagon is a force for good. Dagon is only a force for the Hokage's Will of Fire. He believes Tsunade is good, but she doesn't always have the ability to make decisions that benefit everyone. Hokage have to make terrible decisions, and ANBU have to do terrible things as a result. None of that is up to Iruka or Dagon to decide.

::How are you feeling today, Father Dagon?:: Hydra's voice purrs into his brain softly, like a yawn.

::Better,:: he answers. ::How is your dancing?::

::Better. I am getting more skilled at it. So is Nagi. His telekinesis affords him the ability to do amazing acrobatic feats, which our clients find thrilling. I am trying to imitate some of them, with limited success. We are both getting more and more clients. Even with our masters' cuts, we are making a lot of money. If you and Jackal need anything and you don't want to get it Schuldig's way, we can give you whatever you need.::

Iruka stretches out his arms and legs. The couch is not long enough for him to stretch them all the way out without putting his feet and hands over the armrests. Jackal has to sleep curled up on his side, which he doesn't seem to mind. Not that he'd show it if he did mind. ::We could use a new couch,:: he sends without really meaning to.

::You could move into a nice furnished apartment if you wanted,:: Hydra sends back. ::It is not like Nagi and I have any expenses.::

::No, no, it's better if we stay here, since all the cops live in this area. We're underpaid and overworked, after all. If we move somewhere nice, someone might wonder where we're getting the money and they'll want a piece. At least, that's what I gather from what I've seen so far. And don't worry about the couch, I was just thinking out lo...I was just thinking,:: he finishes lamely.

::I picked up that the couch is too short for Jackal,:: Hydra says, and Iruka winces. It's really hard to keep his thoughts to himself, especially now that he's getting used to projecting them to his colleagues. Hydra generally knows him well enough to know which thoughts he means to send and which he doesn't. ::I will have a new one delivered to you. One that is not nice enough to arouse suspicion.::

Iruka shakes his head. He's too tired to argue. ::Thanks, Mother Hydra.::

::I am happy to look out for you and the captain, Father Dagon,:: Hydra replies, and Iruka is surprised that he can really hear Sai in that sentiment. He hadn't thought there was much difference between Sai and Hydra, but it seems there is a definite distinction.

He hears no more from his alabaster-skinned colleague, and decides both Sai and Hydra have signed out for the evening. Thinking of Sai's complexion, he wonders what it looks like painted in henna, silver, and gold, in the style of dancers, wealthy men and ladies-about-town. Even not so well-to-do women have small designs painted on their cheeks and wrists, the men on their foreheads and biceps, in black or tea-stain. Iruka has always been fond of tattoos and other body art, and he admires the different styles he's seen on the locals.

He could never get a tattoo, of course, other than his ANBU, because ninja like to avoid distinguishing marks. He's still not sure why the ANBU, such proponents of anonymity, brand themselves with such a clear stamp of identity. It's a mark of ownership, in a way—he can understand that—but it's also a mark that says 'Hey, I'm an ANBU!' if one should ever happen to bare an arm in public. Shikamaru caused quite an uproar for a little while because he refused to let himself be marked in the usual location. Iruka doesn't know the details, or why Ibiki compromised for Shikamaru, but Gazelle's tattoo is on the inside of his arm, almost in his armpit. It seems a far more sensible place to Iruka, though he would probably have chosen someplace like the sole of a foot, if he'd thought to challenge the procedure himself.

::Sonnenschein, are you spreading your glow?:: Schuldig asks, and Iruka finds it odd how it seems normal for someone to just start sending messages to his head from out of the blue.

::Didn't I tell you to stick with 'Delphin'?:: Iruka closes his eyes and feels drowsiness creeping up on him.

::But you're my ray of sunshine in this putrid land of plenty,:: Schuldig responds. ::I don't even want to think of what would happen to a dolphin around here, especially if he happened to go into that septic tank of a river.::

::Ugh,:: Iruka agrees with a shudder. ::Fine, call me what you like. You and Hydra, I don't know why I bother trying to argue with you about this.::

::You don't bother, eventually. Obviously.::

::Yeah, I'm a pushover. Rub my face in it.::

::Maybe another time, Dagon m'love. I'm just checking in to see if your sweet fragile heart was broken again today.::

Jackal naturally telepathically informed his colleagues of the events they witnessed on the day of the riots. None of the others were in the thick of it as they were, so Jackal was quite specific in his descriptions of what went on, including Iruka's reaction. The tone of the report, which Iruka also heard, was clipped and brusque, not mocking, but Iruka could still see Jackal sneering at him. _"You expect comfort?" _that cold voice echoed in his mind.

Hydra—or Sai—showed his underlying concern for Iruka by checking in with him daily, but otherwise no one said anything to Iruka about his possibly compromising their position or his loss of composure, except Schuldig. Schuldig mocked him openly, but somehow his tone gave Iruka the impression that he was worried. Not about Iruka, necessarily, but still the tone made it impossible for him to be mad at Schuldig, or even very irritated. He knew Schuldig probably calculated it that way, but he went with the flow. Better to be unruffled than have to fight to hide evidence of ruffling, especially from someone who could read people as well as Schuldig.

::Heart's fine,:: he sends, yawning. ::Built like a brick shithouse.::

::And isn't that what we all hope to have in our chest, yeah? A pulsing shithouse? You're a poet, Dagon. Master of all things prosaic and lyrical.::

::Prosaic?::

::Yes. Like unto prose.::

::I thought that meant commonplace or dull.::

::Words can mean more than one thing, young Delphin. Though if you'd rather be master of doorknobs and refrigerators, who am I to stop you?::

Iruka chuckles and stands up with a groan, heading into their tiny kitchen. ::Speaking of refrigerators, I'm going to see what's in ours.::

::You're always doing such exciting things in the evening. My own heart may explode, seeing as it's made from candy. As opposed to your own sturdy construction.::

The thought of Schuldig having a candy heart makes Iruka laugh out loud. ::If you don't have anything important to say, leave me to my prosaic evening, would you?:: he sends, and he can almost hear his own laughter in his thoughts.

::Fine, fine. But you'd be sending to me if I didn't send to you first, Delphin. You know I spice up your life.::

::You're a kick of some kind, sure,:: Iruka thinks. He doesn't really mean to send that, but he can tell he did. His brain gets away from him sometimes.

He gets no response, but he can imagine that Schuldig's sending him waves of smug satisfaction, like a cat in a sunshine-warmed lap.

The fridge reveals nothing extraordinary, just some leftover dal and some samosas that weren't very good when they were hot. He eats it all anyway, cold since they don't have the benefit of a microwave. He'd never realized how much he used his microwave at home until Kurocha. Heating things on the stove is just too much trouble.

Jackal eventually comes home as Iruka dozes on the couch, looking quite delicious in black slacks and a green and black seersucker shirt. Schuldig 'bought' the clothes for him on a whim, since Jackal had informed the team of his recon-date, and he hadn't brought 'date clothes' with him from home. Jackal had looked askance at the gift, since they were well-financed enough to buy such things—and even if they weren't, Jackal was more than capable of stealing them himself, without any mind-altering jutsu—but he'd accepted it, more for expediency's sake than anything, Iruka thinks.

"How did it go?" Iruka mumbles, shaking himself into full awareness in a few seconds.

"I think I may be homing in on something interesting. Apparently, our Director General is even less well-disposed toward the Kazekage than we thought." Jackal untucks his shirt and sits down next to Iruka. He looks casual, sprawled out there, but he's still Jackal. "He seems to be involved in something that our precinct captain is reluctant to talk about. I think I can convince her when we go out tomorrow."

"You're going out again that soon?"

Jackal flicks his shark eyes toward Iruka for a moment. "We are pressed for time, Dagon. I don't have the luxury of a long, leisurely courtship."

Iruka raises a brow. "That would be a luxury?"

"It would be a tiresome chore. Spending a few evenings with that woman is more than enough."

"Ah." Iruka glances at his hands. "She seems nice enough."

Jackal looks at him as though he has a peculiar variety of slug on his face.

He knows he shouldn't ask, that he should never ask a question like this, but since he is not Dagon at the moment he decides not to hold back. "Did you sleep with her?"

Gathering from Jackal's expression, the slugs must have suddenly multiplied. "Would that be a problem?"

Iruka smiles, shrugging with one shoulder. "Just curious."

"This line of questioning isn't acceptable, Dagon."

Sighing, Iruka says, "Alright." He stands up. "I'm going to bed, then."

Jackal's hand reaches out and snags his wrist before he can dodge it. Jackal firmly tugs his captured arm until Iruka is facing him, and his narrowed eye pierces into Iruka's. Iruka wants to flinch at the scrutiny, but he holds his gaze steady.

Jackal, surprisingly, is the first to look away. When he looks back up, it's Kakashi, smiling faintly. "I didn't sleep with her yet. I might have to start sleeping with her tomorrow. We'll see. She's already talking about assigning sergeants for the two of us to supervise, which would keep us in the station more. I almost wish Schuldig had made us lower ranks so we'd see more of the streets; I get the feeling there's more out there than we've seen in our five days walking the beat."

Iruka slowly sits back down, not sure what to make of this switch. "Well, we knew that as lieutenants we wouldn't be pounding the pavement all the time. We'll be doing more paperwork, and interacting more with the inspectors and commanders. That was supposed to give us a leg up, if I recall."

"I suppose. It'll all work out like it should, I'm sure. I just don't like being cooped up inside, like you," Kakashi teases, playfully shoving Iruka's shoulder.

"I guess we won't need a leg up after tomorrow, since you'll be getting something else up," Iruka retorts, grinning and shoving him back.

Kakashi smiles briefly. "You don't really care whether I sleep with her or not, do you?" It's not really a question.

Iruka's grin fades. "No, not really. I'm not crazy about the thought, but I know the job. I've done the job."

"You just need to focus on something, and your time isn't really occupied right now." Kakashi stretches a hand out to him, and he reaches over and takes it.

"I'm not good at getting recon off the streets, especially when there are so many people. I'm used to more focused sources of intel, so I'm happy we're going to be station-bound. I'll be able to use my time more productively for the mission." He sighs softly. "But in the meantime, yes, I need distraction. I still can't—" Iruka snaps his mouth closed, turning his face away and releasing Kakashi's hand.

"Iruka—"

"Why are you here?" He knows Kakashi understands he's talking about the strange, sudden absence of Jackal.

His partner smiles enigmatically. "You could use me, couldn't you?"

"I could, but I don't need you." The hurt that flashes across Kakashi's face is so deep Iruka can feel it through the soul bond, and he hurries to correct himself, grabbing Kakashi's face in his hands. "I just mean right now, at this moment, not in general, you idiot!" He can see, for the first time, how Jackal might be easier to deal with on a mission than Kakashi. Kakashi's hurt subsides as quickly as it came, though. "Why would you allow yourself out tonight? We're not in a crisis."

"'Out'?"

Iruka drops his hands, folding his arms. "You know what I mean. Quit stalling."

Kakashi runs his hands through his short, spiky hair. "It felt like you did need me. Through the bond."

"Ah." Iruka examines his fingernails with great interest. Not for the first time, he thinks that their soul bond is extremely troublesome. "Say I did. Why would Jackal accommodate me? My needs aren't important. It's the needs of the mission that are—"

"You're needed for the mission. Your needs are the mission's needs."

"That's a lovely rationalization. That's not why you're here." Iruka looks up into Kakashi's dusk-dark eye. "Is it?"

Kakashi takes a deep breath. "I'm having trouble keeping myself...segregated."

Iruka starts to get a sinking feeling. "Is that because I'm not keeping my emotions in check?"

"Partially," Kakashi says hesitantly. "It's also because...I can't help worrying about you. The soul bond makes it really difficult to ignore you, you know."

Iruka hadn't really thought about how his emotions affected Kakashi. He hardly ever feels anything from Kakashi through their bond except very deep feelings, which Kakashi so rarely allows himself that it doesn't usually affect Iruka. He knows the reverse is not true, in part because he hasn't even been trying to be Dagon for the past few days.

He feels all his muscles tense. He can't believe he's allowed himself to compromise not only a fellow shinobi, but his captain and partner to this extent. "I _will_ do better," he growls. "There is no need for you to coddle me, Kakashi. I won't break just because you're not around."

"But you _will_ break," Kakashi says quietly. "With or without me, you will. Sooner or later. Not today or tomorrow, probably not even on this mission, no matter what happens—you're strong, I know that. So if me being here now means we can put off you breaking six months from now, I'm fine with being here. I'm not compromising anything. We're off-duty. And if something happens, if anyone calls us, I can snap on like a switch. You'll learn how to, too, and you'll learn fast. But right now you don't have to learn anything, and I don't have to teach you. I'm not coddling you, Iruka. I'm just with you, that's all."

Iruka can feel all his muscles soften as Kakashi speaks, and suddenly he feels boneless. He slumps against his partner, inhaling the strange spicy fragrance of Kakashi's new shirt against the familiar smell of his pale skin, and fists his hands on Kakashi's shoulders. He scrunches his eyes tightly closed, head bowed on his partner's chest. "Have you ever broken, Kakashi?"

Kakashi chuckles humorlessly. "I've been broken and pieced together so many times, it's a wonder I don't look like a jigsaw puzzle with pieces missing."

"Who put you back together when you broke, before?"

Kakashi pets his hair, his neck and back. "Ibiki, and others who are dead now. Ibiki, mostly. He's efficient, I'll say that for him."

Iruka winces at the thought. "You've never broken since I've known you, have you?"

"No. I wasn't in ANBU, either."

Iruka relaxes his face, opening his eyes. "So...now that you are again, you think you'll break as well?"

"Maybe. As long as I have you, maybe not. I've been through things you can't imagine, but you...I could say a million trite-sounding things about being bonded to you, and not even all of them together could express how you've healed me. So maybe not."

Iruka looks up at him, his heart in his throat. He can't think of a thing to say to that, so he doesn't try, just settles Kakashi's face against his neck and wraps his arms around him.

Kakashi's hands flutter over his back like ghosts before settling at his hips. They just breathe together, Iruka doesn't know for how long. He can feel Kakashi's love through the bond, knows Kakashi is letting him feel it, coaxing him to understand it. And Iruka loves Kakashi, helplessly, unreservedly, like a maelstrom under the guise of evening calm.


	12. Infinite Universes in the Bowl of a

**Part 12: Infinite Universes in the Bowl of a Spoon**

Two days later, Jackal is checking in with the team. Schuldig and Jei are the only ones with interesting news.

::We had a meeting with David Quinto,:: Jei says. ::He has some fascinating toys.::

::If you're into knives, at least,:: Schuldig adds.

::You posed as buyers?:: Jackal asks.

::Yeah, buyers from across the sea looking for ninja or chakra-related gear that civilians could use,:: Schuldig responds.

Dagon shifts on the couch, his eyes unfocused on the wall in front of him. He can almost see the rest of the team sitting in their own apartments. ::Did he show you anything interesting?:: he asks.

::He only had a couple of chakra-infused guns and some interesting electric weapons; the rest were pretty standard civilian fare. He had something interesting to say, though. He managed to set up a meeting with a few of the guerrillas in Akatsuchi City, who wanted to see what his stock was like.::

::Does he know where the base is?:: asks Jackal.

::No, they met with him outside the city limits, unfortunately,:: Schuldig sighs.

::Did he say anything else interesting?:: Jackal presses, getting up from his own spot on the couch and pacing back and forth in front of Dagon. Jackal often paces when he's thinking hard, provided he's in private. Dagon doesn't really count as company.

::He did. He wanted to meet with the head of the guerrillas to try and work out an arms deal, but was told they didn't need guns and that no one meets with the Glass Man,:: says Jei, sounding vaguely amused.

::Glass Man?:: Hydra says.

::Apparently, the Glass Man is the one behind the guerrilla operations. Ergo, our target,:: Schuldig concludes. ::He couldn't get a name or any other information.::

::That's definitely something to work with,:: Dagon muses.

::Nasu Yuuko mentioned a Glass Man when I talked to her last night,:: Hydra says. ::She said the daimyo is frustrated because he can not get the right connections to set up a meeting. She was under the impression that the Glass Man was in the capitol.::

::Why would the daimyo want to meet with the Glass Man?:: asked Jackal. ::Does the daimyo know about his involvement with the guerrillas?::

::She did not know anything else, Captain. I could have questioned her more thoroughly if I had known that name had any significance.::

::I dance for her tomorrow,:: Nagi chimes in. ::I will see if she knows anything more. She is very gossipy when she drinks; it will not be difficult.::

::Good,:: Jackal says. ::This could be our best lead yet.::

::The Director General is not panning out?:: Hydra asks.

::He's involved in some huge tax evasion scheme and is planning a city-wide boycott of all ninja services, but other than that I don't think he has anything to do with ninjas at all,:: Jackal admits. ::Dagon's and my next task will be to see if anyone at the department knows anything about this Glass Man. Anyone have anything on Mohinder Takatori?::

::He has not been around lately,:: Hydra informs. ::The mafia has been involved in the riots on the Bandu side, and he has been organizing them strategically since the first hysterical outbreak.::

::Is that why the riots are persisting?:: Dagon asks. He and Jackal have not been in the middle of any more riots, but they hear about them daily. Nothing as brutal as the first day, but brutal enough.

::One of the reasons, definitely,:: Hydra concludes. ::They are petering out now, though, since the looting and pillaging has spread beyond the scope of religious conflict and the police are mobilizing in most areas. Not yours, of course, but it's been relatively quiet over there anyway, hasn't it?::

::I don't think our Glass Man has anything to do with the riots, at least not in a way that's useful to us,:: Jackal says. ::By all means, question Takatori if he comes in to have you dance for him, but I don't think he's a lead we need to actively pursue right now. Let's work with what we have. It's more than I expected; if Quinto can be believed, this is a very lucky break.::

::He can be believed if I'm any judge,:: Schuldig says.

::He's all kinds of judge,:: Jei says.

::He is good at deciphering honesty,:: Nagi grudgingly admits.

::Nagi? That was you?:: Schuldig sounds very surprised. ::A compliment from the cynical singularity? I may weep!::

::Alright, let's get back to work,:: Jackal says. ::Unless one of you has something useful to add.::

A few soft murmurs of ::No, Captain.::

::We'll wrap this up, then. Let me know the minute you get anything on the Glass Man.::

A firmer chorus of ::Yes, Captain.::

::Captain out,:: Jackal announces. That has become his signal to end a team meeting.

Dagon blinks and comes back to himself, becoming present in their living room once again. "Time for work, Captain?"

Jackal checks his watch. "We've got a few minutes, but we might as well head over now."

"Right."

As they walk to the station, Dagon is vaguely reminded again of a movie he saw as a child, 'Invasion of the Body Snatchers.' Dagon has a slight sense that he and Jackal are pod people who have taken over Iruka and Kakashi. It doesn't bother him at all, but he can't help the parallel from striking him.

It has become easy for Dagon to take over, since Kakashi admitted that Iruka's feelings were disturbing him. Dagon is glad they had that conversation. He's been completely focused on the mission since then, although he hasn't found out anything essential. This would frustrate him if he let it. He doesn't.

He had gone into the central district yesterday, where the Director General's office resides, under the guise of needing to go to court. Sneaking into the Director's office was easy, and cracking his safe was just as easy even without chakra—during his genin days he had mastered the art of divining civilian combination locks. But all he'd found out were the same things Jackal found out from their precinct captain—that he was evading taxes and trying to undermine the ninja system in Wind Country. Interesting, but nothing the ANBU could use.

If Dagon needed something as trivial as consolation, he would have been consoled by the fact that Jackal hadn't found out anything essential either.

Now that they are armed with a name of sorts, perhaps they will be able to find out something interesting _and_ useful. If they don't, Jackal will probably have them abandon the police station altogether, and go to work with Schuldig and Jei. Dagon doesn't think he would mind that, but he'd rather stay where they are for now.

*-*-*-*

Dagon is combing the records again, wading through files on the mafia including Mohinder Takatori. Even if he's not the best lead, Dagon's been through the files on the Director General and what few records pertain to Nasu Yuuko with a fine-toothed comb already, and the police have extensive files on Takatori. He 's searching every line for some sort of reference to the Glass Man or anyone who might lead to him, when Jackal tosses something onto the table in front of him.

Dagon pulls off his reading glasses and picks up the small device. It looks like a glass disk with silver spiderwebs running through it. "This is...didn't we see one of these in Suna?"

::It's the chakra cloaking device,:: Jackal silently confirms. ::Turns out it has an extremely variable range. This one was set to cloak an entire building. It was hidden rather ingeniously on the roof; I almost had to take out a wall to retrieve it.::

Dagon's brow draws down as he turns over the device. The disk is a perfect circle, and the silver webbing--wires? Solder?--is only asymmetrical enough to look artistic. It looks deliberate, as though aesthetics are as important as function, but since Dagon doesn't know how it was made he can't draw any conclusions from it. ::Where did...you got this from the roof? The station roof?::

Jackal sits down, speaking aloud but very softly. There is no one around, but it pays to be prudent. "It was actually on a roof a few blocks over. I noticed the absence of chakra just by chance—well, not by chance; it's pretty obvious we were supposed to notice it. We can definitely conclude that our target knows we're here, and I think he knows who we are."

"Wait a minute," Dagon says, holding up his hands. "Back up. You were walking down the street minding your own business, and suddenly you notice an absence of chakra in a place where there are obviously people. Is that right?"

"That's right. So I triangulated to find the source of the absence, and tracked it to this building."

"What building?"

"A bank. I searched the whole building from roof to sub-sub-basement, couldn't find anything except this device on the roof."

Dagon frowns. "They left it there for us to find? That seems...really random."

"It's very random. Especially considering that this is not the only device that's been set up around the city this way." Jackal folds his arms, staring at Dagon, waiting for him to come to whatever conclusions Jackal's already come to.

"There are more of these?"

"I have Schuldig and Jei on the prowl for them, and they've already found at least fifty of them."

"Fifty?!"

"And it looks like there are probably hundreds more set up. I don't know how long they've had to do this or how long it's taken us to notice. Apparently these things are either very cheap to manufacture, or money really isn't an object. Maybe both; these have such a deceptively simple-looking construction..."

Dagon takes a breath, mind racing. "So they're setting up cloaking devices randomly. Ergo, they want to hide something."

"And they want to slow us down by making us check each and every building, park, factory, whatever it is that they've cloaked. The odds of us actually finding what we're looking for that way are astronomical, given that time is not on our side."

"But I don't understand why they would start throwing cloakers around if they really wanted to hide, Captain. Doesn't this just draw our attention to them? Wouldn't they have been better off doing nothing?"

"My guess is that they were already cloaking themselves when we got here. One chakra-free area, once we found it, would be a pretty big give-away. A hundred of them, or two hundred, or however many they've scattered around, hides them pretty effectively."

Dagon can't help thinking something's wrong with this scenario. It hits him after a second. "This is not our target's usual M.O. I mean, if he knows who and where we are, we should be fighting for our lives, shouldn't we? We should be running into whoever killed all of our ANBU predecessors, not playing some advanced version of cat and mouse."

"Precisely what's troubling me," Jackal admits. "It seems instead of straightforward killing, we're being drawn into a game. I have no idea why that would be, and I don't like it."

Dagon allows himself a small, blank smile. "Perhaps they're aware of your identity, Captain. A lot of people want to test their mind and mettle against Sharingan Kakashi."

Jackal grunts softly in affirmation. "Possible. Or they've tired of just killing us, and want to toy with us first. Or there's an objective we're not seeing." He stands up. "Keep your mind chewing on that while you go through the files. I'm going to help Schuldig and Jei search some of these buildings, until someone comes up with something better to do."

"Shouldn't we look for marks of manufacture on these?" Dagon says, holding up the glass disc.

"I took it down to the lab already. It's totally untraceable, every part. The tech couldn't even tell me what metal it's got in it; it's some kind of alloy he's never seen before."

Dagon raises a brow. "You showed this to a civilian lab tech?"

Jackal waves a hand impatiently. "Schuldig and I fed him a story. He's excited to be involved in international espionage, and he's as loyal to me as can be in such a short amount of time. He's not a problem."

"Of course, Captain. I wasn't questioning your judgment." He turns the cloaking device over in his hand. "How did you turn this off?"

"You use chakra to interrupt the circuit. It's really rather ingenious. A tiny, tiny flicker of chakra turns it on, so tiny that you'd only notice it in the complete absence of any other chakra source. That much is enough to cloak a person, and then you can put more chakra into it to widen the field, all the while being cloaked by it. And it has to be turned off deliberately; the chakra circuit is self-perpetuating, like a seal. Left on their own, these could last for months. Even years, for all I can tell. If I had time and the proper resources to study them..."

"Let's be sure to take some back to Konoha with us. No doubt Tsunade and Ibiki would want to make use of them." Iruka taps his spectacles against the table a few times. "I wonder what else our target has come up with. It seems like he's inventing and manufacturing all this stuff himself, doesn't it?"

"It does. It should be a fairly sizeable operation. I'm thinking we should focus on the more industrial parts of town, somewhere you could move a lot of heavy equipment without anyone thinking twice about it. If he's inventing things for warfare, this is definitely not something he could do out of his garage, however small these particular devices are."

"Agreed."

Jackal turns and leaves without another word, and Dagon puts his glasses back on and falls back to his reading with a bit more vigor than before. Things might be starting to come together now that their target has shown himself--by cloaking, ironically enough.

*-*-*-*

It is lunchtime, and Dagon is wandering down 146th street, which he's done every day since he met Philip. He specifically walks by the tea shop, where he stops in for a cup of Earl Grey—Iruka's new favorite tea. Bergamot and black tea taste like a color to him, a dusky, heavy grey. He knows grey should be flat and have no defining characteristics, but Earl Grey tastes like the prelude to a storm, while sitting inside reading a big leather-bound book, snug in a blanket.

Dagon doesn't drink the tea for the same reasons Iruka does. He drinks it to keep his mind focused on the reason he's at the tea shop in the first place: he's deeply mistrustful of his encounter with Philip.

Iruka didn't notice anything wrong, but Dagon has gone over and over the meeting in his mind, and he thinks that even if he was Iruka at the time, he warmed up to Philip far too fast. Iruka knows what it is to be on a mission, and he knows that coincidences hardly ever turn out to be coincidental. Dagon wants to know what was wrong with that meeting, whether it turns out to be a personal failing or something else.

He feels instinctively that Philip's remarks about big cities being small worlds and recommending that shop to him mean that he's destined to encounter the old man there, if he'll encounter him at all.

So it is with no great surprise that he comes upon the man himself, sitting rather primly at an outdoor table, drinking an iced red brew from a heavy crystal glass.

"Why, it's Ravi!" says Philip, rising as Dagon approaches, a pleasant smile on his face. "I had hoped you would happen along. I've practically staked this place out, hoping to find you meandering in this district."

"Hello, Philip," Dagon says, smiling sunnily. "I've come here often since you mentioned Earl Grey. I'm surprised we haven't run into each other before now."

"Ah, well, I usually only drink tea in the morning or evening. This afternoon I was feeling rather desiccated, so I thought I'd plump up my dry old flesh before the vultures start pecking at it."

"I know, I still can't get used to this dry heat." Dagon continues to smile as he analyzes Philip's body language, facial expression, intonation. He can't find anything suspicious.

"Don't get an old man started," Philip grouses. "Well, sit, my lad! Now we've met, you'll have to stay a while, yes? Give a bit of company. That is, if you're not already on your way elsewhere?" He raises a brow.

"I was on my way here, actually," Dagon says, sitting down at the table. Philip politely waits for him to seat himself before taking his own seat and drinking a long swallow of his tea. "Is that good?" Dagon asks.

"Ah," Philip gulps, smacking his lips. "It's a little fruity for my taste. Rooibos and red currant. It's very refreshing, though; shall I have them bring you a glass?" He waves to the shop attendant without waiting for Dagon's permission.

Dagon has never drunk anything from this shop that he hasn't brewed himself, and since he can't use chakra to check for hidden poisons that can't be sussed out the civilian way, he doesn't plan to. Luckily he's trained in the art of sleight of mouth, and when the attendant brings him a large glass of fragrant iced tea, he's able to seem to take a huge gulp of it without ingesting it or spitting it all over the sidewalk.

"Decent, isn't it?" asks Philip. "I know it's rather touristy to drink it iced, but I find most days I can't enjoy a steaming cup under the hot sun, as the locals do. They claim it cools them off, you know. I'm not sure I believe them."

"Not my cup of tea, so to speak," Dagon admits. The taste in his mouth is pleasantly sweet and tart, but as Philip said, too fruity. "Good and cold, though. I'm not one for compounding my heat, either."

"Cold is enough, out here, I find. There are days I wouldn't be hard-pressed to drink camel piss if it was cold enough. Or the local beer, though that might take more convincing."

Dagon injects a laugh, trying to feel if there is anything wrong with how this conversation is going. So far it seems perfectly harmless. "I haven't tried either the local piss or the local beer. I'll stick with tea, I think. Even fruity tea."

"The local cactus liquor is something worth trying," Philip says. "Though I'd get it from a reputable dealer. No bathtub tequila, unless you fancy going blind and losing most of your marbles. The good stuff is quite potent enough. Certain brands can mimic the effects of peyote, without the vomiting. Well, unless you drink too much of it."

"I don't really like to get drunk," Dagon says. "I prefer to stay sharp." A realization slices into him like a knife: that's not what Ravi would have said.

"An officer all the time, eh? Well, you did say you were your job, if I recall."

Dagon does recall saying that. Yet another thing that doesn't fit his Ravi persona—Ravi wouldn't have a problem going out and getting drunk with the guys once a week or so; Ravi is a dedicated worker but isn't necessarily defined by his job. Who is he talking about? And more importantly, _why_? Dagon is a better ninja than that. So is Iruka. "I did say that," he ventures cautiously, trying to appear casually thoughtful as he wracks his brain.

Philip peers at him curiously. "You seem more reflective today, Ravi," he says after a moment. "You have to watch out for reflection. Reflections of every kind."

Dagon raises a brow. It seems Philip's getting ready to spout some of his more confusing observations. "I'm not sure I follow."

"Reflections are gateways to other worlds, my friend. You know that if you reflect a mirror in a mirror, you don't just get infinite mirrors. You get infinite doorways, if only you know how to open them. And they all lead somewhere just a little different." He picks up the spoon that came in his glass of tea. "There are gateways to other worlds in every reflective surface, not just mirrors, you know. If you squint just right," he continues, suiting actions to words, "you can see infinite universes in the bowl of a spoon." He peers into his spoon as though expecting to unlock a great secret.

"I've only ever seen reflections in a reflective surface," Dagon replies, injecting a note of amusement.

"That's only because your eyes haven't been trained to see properly, my friend. If you're very lucky—or unlucky—you can see someone from the other side of the reflection looking back at you, or calling to you, drawing you in, or coaxing you to draw them out." Philip abruptly drops his spoon and laughs. "Either you get Alice and the Looking-Glass or a horror show, it seems. I don't think I've ever met a universe that was purely pleasant, solely wonderful. Perhaps such universes don't exist."

"I've only met this universe, Philip."

Philip looks up at Dagon and smiles, his expression clear and unguarded. "If you and circumstances allow, perhaps I can introduce you to a different one someday."

Dagon can feel...something. Something in his brain seems to be opening him up, making him comfortable, making him want to join in a relaxed conversation without worrying about consequences or propriety. It's not unlike truth serum, the effects of which Ibiki trained him to withstand as a chuunin. But it's not the same, and he didn't drink any tea, so it has to be something else.

"Ravi? I haven't put you to sleep with my nonsense, have I?" Philip asks, sounding concerned.

Dagon still can't detect anything wrong with Philip, but he knows there's something wrong with this conversation. He has to end it. "No, no, I'm just—heh, you're right, I _am_ reflecting. I've got a case at work that's just...well. Nothing I can go into."

"I understand, I understand. A head full of upholding the law and all that."

"Sure." Dagon stands up, keeping a tight rein on his mouth. "I'm afraid duty is calling me back, Philip. I'll pass here again from time to time, perhaps I'll see you?"

Philip stands up as well, and gives Dagon the same vigorous handshake from their first meeting. "No question, my boy! Now that I know when you might come around, I'll make it a point to trundle by before my afternoon siesta when I can."

Dagon's eyes would narrow if he was interested in telegraphing his thoughts. Instead, he says teasingly, "Don't you have a job?"

"I do indeed. I am one of those very lucky souls who gets to make their own hours, and I find I'm actually more productive if I do my research at night. Hence the siesta. My days I can spend drinking tea, rambling about and," he drops a wink, "fighting crime. None of it efficiently, but what can one do."

Dagon finds himself perilously on the cusp of spilling some of his own work habits, and forces his mouth shut. He smiles, a little tightly.

Philip notices. "Are you quite all right, Ravi?"

"Just not looking forward to going back to work," Dagon sighs. "If I could drink tea and ramble about with you for the afternoon, I'd be perfectly content." It wouldn't have been a lie if he was Iruka, and not on a mission, but Dagon is itching to get away from the man now. He's definitely going to talk to Jackal about this.

"I would enjoy that as well. Perhaps another day, yes?"

"Of course," Dagon says, bowing slightly. He is about to turn away when something occurs to him. It might be unimportant, but... "Philip, might I ask your family name?"

Philip's eyebrows rise. "How rude of me, I've never mentioned it? My name is Philip Glazier, of the Hopfstead Glaziers. And by what name can your esteemed ancestors be summoned?"

Dagon scratches the back of his head, feigning a little self-consciousness. "Ah, I'm Ravi Morimoto. Of the Kyoujou Morimotos, not that I'd expect you to know them."

Philip laughs. "Is that a subtle admonishment, my boy? Hopfstead is in another land, it's true, but old habits die hard, as they say. Kyoujou is in the south, yes? If I ever meet another Kyoujou Morimoto I shall be pleased to say I know you."

"No admonition meant," Dagon says, ducking his head a little. "I hope to see you again soon. Good day, Philip."

He hardly hears Philip's polite adieu as he turns and walks away, his mind humming. He doesn't know how Philip fits into the picture that he and the ANBU team are trying to put together, or even if he fits into it at all, but he knows instinctively that Philip is someone they either need to avoid or keep an eye on. Jackal will know which.

*-*-*-*

"Why didn't you tell me about this man sooner, Dagon?" Jackal asks. He doesn't sound judgmental, or even curious. Dagon has no idea what he's really thinking.

They're at home on the couch, and Dagon's just finished describing both of his encounters with Philip to Jackal. He's made sure to relate as much of the exact conversation as he can, and give all of his impressions. He's not surprised by his captain's question; he's not really sure himself why he didn't say anything sooner. Perhaps as Iruka, he wanted to keep that first warm conversation private. He had barely had a reason to relate the conversation, really, any more than he had reason to relate all his other conversations with fellow officers, street vendors, or anyone else he talked to. Perhaps that was a rationalization. "I didn't think it was of any importance, Captain, until we talked a second time. I still doubt it has any import to our current mission, but since I feel that Philip Glazier is somewhat unusual, I can't help now but feel our meeting may not be a coincidence."

"Perhaps you're right. But even if it is not a coincidence, it's not necessarily sinister. Except for a feeling that you're tempted to reveal too much in his presence, there is nothing noteworthy about him with respect to this mission, correct?" asks Jackal.

"Yes, but it feels like there may be something more to this than I'm seeing right now."

"Feels?"

"It's just a hunch, but it's formidable enough to concern me."

"Alright. Stay clear of this Philip, then; don't go near that tea shop. If you see him again anywhere else, inform me immediately. We don't need someone messing up our investigation at this juncture, just when we're finally getting somewhere. Tell the others, too, so they can be on the lookout for him."

"Understood, Captain—wait." Something has suddenly occurred to Dagon, that seems so far-fetched as to be absurd, but he doesn't think he should dismiss the notion. "There's one thing I forgot to mention."

Jackal crosses his arms. "Go on."

Dagon turns sideways on the couch so he can face Jackal a bit more. "It's probably nothing. I told you how he's a metaphysical theologist and a research analyst, but he also mentioned that he's a glass-blower. I know there are hundreds of glass-blowers in this city--"

"It does seem to be a popular profession. Especially in the Naarangee district, you can see them all over the streets."

"Yes." Dagon lifts his eyes to the ceiling, thinking.

Jackal narrows his eye. "You think Philip might be the Glass Man?"

"I think...that we can't afford to dismiss the idea. I know it's far-fetched, but if the Glass Man really is playing games with us, it's not so ridiculous to think he would have contacted us himself. I've already had the feeling that our first encounter wasn't random. Maybe even staged, dead cat and all." He lowers his eyes again. "What do you think, Captain?"

Jackal is nodding. "All right. You've convinced me that this is a lead we should follow up on. Forget my earlier order; keep going to that tea shop and try to make contact again. I'm going to have Schuldig stake the place out while Jei and I keep checking buildings with the chakra cloaks. We'll concentrate on the ones in this area; if this Philip really is the Glass Man, it's probable that his operation is not too far away." Jackal's lips turn up slightly. "Imagine that, if we settled ourselves right in his territory. Luck really is a shinobi skill."

Dagon doesn't know if he'd call it luck, exactly, but he can see Jackal's point. "Understood, Captain."

*-*-*-*

The next day, Dagon goes by the tea shop on his lunch hour, but Philip doesn't show himself. He is wary when one of the natives waves to him, but in a second the illusion falls away, and he realizes it is Schuldig.

::Should you be revealing yourself here?:: he sends, not sure he should go over to Schuldig's table.

"Idiot, I'm only revealing myself to you. No one can hear what we're saying, either, so you can talk, yeah? Don't worry."

Dagon allows himself a grin. "Your jutsu definitely make life easier."

Schuldig leans back in his chair indolently. It makes Dagon think of a big orange cat. "I'm so very spoiled, you know. It makes me a person of very dubious character, yeah? Lazy and manipulative. Jei's constantly reminding me of all that."

Dagon weaves among the tables to sit down at Schuldig's, and relaxes a little. "I can't imagine Jei is merely a fine, upstanding citizen himself."

"Oh, he means all that to be complimentary, and that's how I take it. Manipulation is a virtue, isn't it? In our world, at least. So is having a dubious character."

Dagon almost laughs. "Don't tell Naruto that."

"Oh, a fine, upstanding citizen, is he?"

"The finest." Dagon has to push down a swell of pride, followed by a swell of frustration at the emotion.

Schuldig shakes his head, curling a finger around his bangs and tugging absently.

"Where is Jei, speaking of the devil?" Iruka asks. "Don't you have to be within range of him to use your jutsu?"

"Oh, we're in range, alright." Schuldig grins, showing too many of his teeth. "He just doesn't feel sociable right now."

Dagon isn't sure how he feels about having Jei around but being unable to see him, but he dismisses his concern. He has to trust his team, after all.

"Your Philip person hasn't been by today," Schu says conversationally.

"I didn't really think it would be that easy, that he'd just show up as soon as we started really looking for him." A car horn catches Dagon's attention, and he looks over to the street, where people are definitely not clearing away so a large sedan can barge through the street. He can't see into the car windows through the crowd.

Schuldig says, "You think that's him in the car? That would be some luck, yeah?"

Dagon raises a brow. "Can you check?"

"Already done. It's a woman. No one of interest, unless you're looking for a sugar-momma. Which I always am, but not when I'm on a mission. I do have _some_ work ethics."

"Hard to believe," says Dagon, turning back to him.

They talk and banter back and forth until it's time for Dagon to go back to the station. Schuldig promises to notify him as well as Jackal if Philip shows up, and Dagon leaves in a rather pleasant mood.

The mood lasts until he gets back to the station to find he's pulled street duty for the afternoon, since one of the sergeants has gotten ill, and has to walk the beat. He was hoping to scour the computers for information, since he's gotten better and better at hacking over the past few years. He tamps down irritation and goes to meet his beat partner. It is one of the cops who was at the riots, the one who checked out his ass in the locker room the first day.

He smiles, his Ravi mask in place, and chatters aimlessly. His fellow officer—Ekanga, his name is—smiles placidly while at the same time looking like he wishes Ravi would just be quiet. It's a dynamic that puts Dagon at ease.

An uneventful hour and a half into their beat, they come across some barely pre-pubescent children fighting in an almost deserted street. The children are not Dalits, and they are really fighting hard. There are already bloody noses and deep scratches, and one of the children is holding a dripping hunk of hair.

He and Ekanga dive into the situation, separating the children roughly and shouting, even as some of the children turn on them. Dagon keeps an eye on Ekanga, in case he has trouble. Dagon can handle himself easily, of course, though he tries not to move too fast or do anything too acrobatic. Ekanga seems quite skilled himself, so Dagon concentrates more on the children around him. He's wondering if he'll need to mace some of them; they seem almost feral.

He notices, out of the corner of his eye, that one of the children has a knife. Ekanga notices too, and he's closer. He skillfully wrests the weapon from the child, and then slams that child up against a building. He puts the knife to the child's throat. The child looks terrified as it begins to draw blood.

Dagon hesitates for just a second; for just one second all his attention is focused on the point of that knife, and Iruka is fighting for freedom.

One second is all it takes for the dart to hit.

Someone was watching him very closely, he realizes, and he can see the window where the dart gun shot from. He turns to call Ekanga, but he already can't make his vocal cords work. One of the kids kicks his feet out from under him, and he goes down. He sees Ekanga chasing the kids away from him with his tonfa, whacking them in the back.

He can't move a muscle, and it just barely occurs to him that he should use the telepathic link to signal for help when he blacks out.


End file.
